


Entrances and Exits

by bbelle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Porn, Angst and all the things, But also pretty goofy, Drug Use, Endverse, Episode: s05e04 The End, F/M, First Time, M/M, Multi, Possessive Dean Winchester, Rough Sex, Slow Build, The End
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1432918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbelle/pseuds/bbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's August 7th, 2014, and Dean can't stop thinking about the end of the world...the one that he already saw thanks to Zachariah. An idle question to Castiel leads to utter chaos when the angel responds by bringing the other Cas and Dean to their reality. </p><p>Things go as one might expect - Dean and Dean are practically at each other's throats, human Cas does drugs and makes angel Cas uncomfortable, and Sam is mostly just confused, at least at first. Along the way, we learn human Cas's story of how he and Dean were changed by the non-averted Apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everything is mostly canon-compatible through the middle of Season 9, then diverges. Dean is human, and Cas is full angel. Most deaths are in the Endverse, because, you know, Apocalypse. Rated explicit for future chapters.

August 7th, 2014. 

Dean looks at the calendar. He’s done it a lot these last few days, having lived through these dates before in another reality. He wonders if it still exists. If somewhere, right at this moment, Lucifer is using Sam’s foot to snap Dean’s neck.

It’s quiet in the bunk. Sam has gone out for a supply run and Cas is noiselessly petering about. Dean is trying his best to focus on research, but it’s difficult.

He’s not sure how long Cas has been standing there by the time he gets that uncanny feeling that the angel’s eyes are on him, but then again, he’s not sure how long he’s been looking at the calendar.

Without looking up, he asks, “Cas, what do you know about time travel into the future? And, uh…alternate universes?”

Cas follows his gaze to the calendar, and surprisingly, picks up on his train of thought. He told Cas a little bit about his trip to that wretched future shortly after he got back, but hasn’t mentioned it since. Hasn’t really thought about it in a long time, actually, though it occasionally found its way into his nightmares. He’s got so much fodder for those, though.

“You are thinking about the world Zachariah showed you.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Yeah, I’m…I’m wondering if it still exists. Or if it was just, I don’t know, a possibility or something that disappeared when it didn’t come true. Or maybe it never existed, and was a vision the whole time.”

Though it didn’t feel like a vision. He’d nearly been fooled by a djinn’s vision once, but after the fact, he was able to clearly distinguish it from reality. His memories of Camp Chitaqua weren’t like that, felt like any other memories.

“Time travel into the future is more…complex…than time travel into the past. Given that we are in this point in time, there is only one pathway that has led to this point. I have never travelled to the future, but I know that there is more than one. Theoretically, there are infinite potential universes, but in actuality, there appear to be certain driving forces that lead the infinite potential paths down to a limited number of options. If you did visit that time, and it was not a vision, then that option existed, and therefore still exists.”

“Oh.” Dean’s not sure he really followed all of that, but he got the last part. It exists. Somewhere out there, Sam is the devil, and Dean and Cas are dead.

“Do you find this upsetting?”

Well, at least Cas is getting better at human interaction. Took him long enough. “Yeah, I just…it sucks, you know. I mean that other Dean was a dick, and the other Cas…well, he had issues too. But right now, in some other reality, if I’m getting the timing right, they pretty much both just got killed. And that’s…” It’s fucked up, is what it is.

Cas walks a few steps over to him and places a hand on his head. “May I?”

“Uh…sure?” he says, though he probably should have said ‘Uh..what?’ ‘cause he doesn’t really know what he just gave permission for Cas to do. Suddenly he’s inundated with visions of the other 2014. These aren’t like the vague memories that have been bugging him all day, they’re more like rapid fire vivid re-enactments of his time there. Every moment of those three days runs through his mind in what probably only takes a minute or two, and when he comes back to his senses, he sees a grave look on Cas’s face.

“It was not a vision; that reality does exist. I understand your vexation now,” Cas says, and then he’s gone. What the fuck?

He’s used to Cas disappearing without warning, but that was even more abrupt than usual. He doesn't have much time to think about it, though, because a few minutes later, Cas is back.

In either hand, Cas is clutching the dead bodies of their alternate selves. Dean in his right hand, neck snapped. The bearded Cas in his left hand, in even worse shape. They look pretty awful but his Cas doesn't look too much better.

“You were correct. They are dead. I will remedy the situation,” he says. Dean wants to tell him to remedy himself first, but he sees it’s too late. Bursts of light are emanating from both of his hands, radiating through the two corpses, and both sets of closed eyes open just as Cas says “They are healed,” and falls to the ground.

The other two, already half on the ground, having been dragged by Cas, fall along with him. This is a lot to take in – two beings from another reality have been brought to the bunker and resurrected. But Dean’s not even registering this fact. His only concern is Cas. His Cas.

He runs to the fallen form and kneels down. Cas is completely unresponsive, and Dean is about to check for vitals, though he can’t remember whether that’s really all that important for the angel, when their two visitors start speaking simultaneously.

“Okay, what the fuck just happened?”

“Whoa, look, that’s me. Am I dead?”

Dean ignores his alter, who’s still grumbling about something or another, and looks at the bearded man, frantically. “Is he dead? Can you tell?”

The man blinks twice and then looks at him again. “No, he’s not dead. I was asking if I was dead. I thought I remembered getting killed.”

Dean breathes a giant sigh of relief, but still has to confirm. “Are you sure, he’s definitely not dead? He went to get you guys and then he brought you back to life and then he fell.”

The other Cas nods, and then speaks slowly, in the kind of soothing voice you would use when talking to a small child or someone in the midst of a psychotic break. “I think I understand. You’re past Dean, right? You were just at our camp. But you – you’re older now, correct?”

“Yeah, it’s 2014 here now.”

“And you…sent Castiel to come save us and bring us here?”

“Well, not exactly, but yeah, sorta.”

“Okay.”

They fall silent for a moment, and Dean finally registers the presence of the angry doppelganger at his side.

“Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on around here?”

Cas talks to the other Dean using that same soothing it’s-all-going-to-be-okay-try-not-to-go-too-crazy voice.

“Dean here returned to the past after his visit with us. He lived through the next five years, though presumably his were more pleasant...” Cas stops and looks down at his angelic counterpart, and then around at the bunker, giving an appreciative nod. Dean isn’t sure if he would call these last five years pleasant, but he’s not going to argue. He knows these two had to deal with the apocalypse and just got killed, so that kinda trumps his problems.  

Cas continues, addressing the still irate alternate Dean, though neither of them are looking directly at each other. “He knew that I would die…and I’m guessing that you did as well, given that he said the other Castiel resurrected us. So Castiel came to our reality, rescued us, and brought us back to life.”

Other Dean finally calms down for a moment. Now he just looks weary. The next question is just one word.

“Why?”

No one says anything. Finally, Cas says in a quieter-than-usual voice, “I guess he thought our lives were worth saving. Perhaps he should have known better.”

Now Dean is just pissed. Because he remembers how this other Cas was killed, how the other Dean just sold him out, how it all blew up in their faces, and now this guy has the nerve to ask why instead of being grateful? To make Cas, the guy he set up to die, calm him down and what, come up with reasons as to why they shouldn’t be dead? Like it’s some kind of burden? Fuck this guy. And he still didn’t know if his Cas was going to be okay.

“How do you know Cas is alright? How can you tell? I mean, aren’t you just human now?”

“Mostly. But I still have some residual abilities. Besides, I know myself. Even my formerly angelic self. Your Castiel is not dead,” and at least he understands how concerned Dean is about _his_ Cas. “But traveling dimensions, transporting us back here, and performing two resurrections has understandably drained a lot of energy. Honestly, I don’t know even how he was able to do all of that. I never had that kind of juice. But I can sense his current state. He's recouping energy. It’s something like a coma, but not so dangerous. He’ll wake up when he’s fully recharged.”

Okay. That made sense. He’d seen Cas drained before. He really didn’t look too bad, actually. More like he was in a really deep sleep.

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. We shouldn’t leave him on the floor like this, though.” He stood and picked Cas up by the shoulders. “C’mon, grab his legs, and let’s get him to bed. My room’s over this way.”

Dean leads them both back to his bedroom and they lay him down gently. He knows the angel doesn’t need it, but he still feels compelled to take off his shoes and peel back half of the blanket, wrapping him in a sort of cocoon.

As they walk out of the room, Dean looks back at the bed one more time, just to check. Cas sees this and looks at him fondly. “I guess that worked out better here, too.”

“What worked out bet –“

His question is interrupted by a loud crashing sound. He hears two voices shouting in the main room, and – oh shit, Sammy’s home.

They run to the main room in time to see both boys on the floor, Dean pinned down to the ground by Sam, searching the room with his eyes as he screams out to no one in particular, “The Colt, where the fuck is the Colt?” and then to Sam, “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam looks bewildered, and that look just multiplies when he looks up and sees another version of his brother, standing besides an unkempt and unfamiliar version of their angel.

“What the hell?” Sam repeats, this time directing his attention toward his actual brother, “How did a shapeshifter – or whatever this is – get into the bunker?” He doesn’t ask about Cas and his new facial hair, but from the look he gives him, he seems as perturbed by it as by the existence of a homicidal Dean-clone.

“I’m not a fuckin’ shapeshifter!” the pinned man yells, but then he quiets, just looking back and forth between Sam, Dean, and Cas.

“He’s not,” Dean concurs, and he lifts a hand to his head to rub his temple. How is going to explain this? “Look, it’s a long story. But he’s not a monster. He’s just an asshole.” He smirks at the other Dean. “And he’s not Lucifer, you moron. He’s Sam. Our brother.”

“ _Our_ brother?” Dean’s non-explanation was clearly not sufficient for Sam, but his message seems to have gotten through to the other Dean, who looks directly at Cas for the first time since they arrived, as if seeking confirmation.

“Yes, Dean, that’s Sam. It’s really him.”

Sam’s loosened his grip, but still seems unsure as to whether he should let the mystery man go completely. “Will someone just tell me what exactly is going on here?” He looks down at this man who is his brother but isn’t, with an expression of perplexity and slight bitchiness that is just so Sam that it seems to finally sink in to the other Dean that this is his brother and not his immortal enemy.

His eyes are wide and when he speaks, it’s barely above a whisper.

“Sammy?”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

When everyone’s calmed down, they all sit down at the long table in the bunker, and Dean tries to explain everything to Sam. Well, almost everything.

There are pieces that he doesn’t mention, like the fact that Cas was used as bait or that he was an orgy-hosting drug addict, or well, pretty much anything about Cas. But he tells Sam what he needs to know to understand what just happened. That he visited a future where Lucifer stayed in his body, and that future was now the present.

And for whatever reason, their angel had decided to go save these sorry ass sons of bitches and bring them here, so it looks like they’d be having a couple of houseguests for the foreseeable future. Though he doesn’t phrase it like that.

“Where is Cas, anyway? I mean, I guess this isn’t our Cas, with the whole…” Sam makes a gesture toward his chin, indicating the new Cas’s scruffy beard.

“Yeah, well traveling through alternate realities and bringing people back to life takes its toll, so he’s sleeping it off.”

“Sleeping?”

“Well, recharging. I don’t know how long he’s gonna be out, but he’s okay.” He looks at the other Cas questioningly. The two dimension-hoppers have been pretty quiet while he explained things. The other Dean still seems to be in shock. He can’t keep his eyes off Sam. Cas seems to be taking things more in stride. Maybe being high all the time takes the edge off of dying and waking up in a different reality.

“He’ll probably be out for a least day. Maybe two. But he’s fine. I’m pretty sure of it.”

“Pretty sure?” Dean doesn’t like the sound of that.

Cas looks at him with something like affection. “I’m sure. He’s fine. You saw him. He doesn’t look bad.”

Yeah, he didn’t. Still, Dean wishes he could be 100% certain that Cas was going to be okay.

Sam is still looking at Dean, full of questions. “Dean, why didn’t you ever tell me about any of this?”

It was true. He’d told Cas just enough, but never breathed a word about his experiences to anyone else. Especially not Sam. “I just…things were weird between us. Remember? We had been separated, and traveling to this place was what made me realize that was wrong. And then…well, we had a lot going on. Remember the apocalypse? It was a little distracting.”

He tries to sound annoyed, but really it’s a defense mechanism. Maybe he should’ve told Sammy. He’d thought about it, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Every time he thought about Lucifer wearing his brother in that obnoxious white suit, it made his stomach churn. He never wanted Sam to have that image of himself.

Sam knows him too well, can tell when he’s being defensive.  “You didn’t want me to know you saw me as Lucifer.”

Dean shrugs. “It just didn’t seem like it could do any good while we were still fighting him. And then after…well, a lot happened after that too. It wasn’t something I really wanted to revisit.”

“Hmph.” His other self makes a sound for the first time since they sat down at the table.

“You got something to say?” Dean really can’t stand this guy. He’s not sure what that says about him.

“Just funny, you know, you didn’t want to revisit it all these years. And then today, after we’ve lost everything, after we’ve died, suddenly, what, you give a crap?”

“Look, I didn’t even know if what I saw was real in the first place. I sure as hell didn’t think going there and saving you guys was an option.” Now he was getting really pissed. “And if I did, I still don’t know if I would have, seeing as how you don’t seem all too happy to be saved.”

He was angry, but the other Dean was straight up furious. He got up and walked over, grabbing Dean by the shirt and looking into his face with venom, practically spitting out his next words. “You think you saved us? Now? You call this saving? Where were you before, when you could have actually changed things? You could have stopped him” he nods toward Sam “from saying ‘Yes.’ You could have saved him. You could have saved everybody.” His voice cracks at the last sentence, and Dean almost feels sorry for him, but that pity is overtaken by rage when his other self shakes him and starts bellowing, “Where the fuck were you?”

“Where were you? You could have been with Sam too, and you weren’t, and that’s why you lost him. Sam said ‘Yes’ here too,” both the other Dean and Cas look kind of startled by that, “but he made it through to the other side, he saved the whole fuckin’ world, because we didn’t abandon him.”

He feels the grip on his shirt loosen, sees the mirror image of his face crumble, green eyes flooded with pain as he slumps to a chair. “So it was my fault.”

Now he feels guilty. Shit. The only reason he didn’t go down this path was because he’d seen what that led to. He was no better than this other self, just luckier. For the first time, Dean is actually grateful for Zachariah. He never really thought about it, but if it wasn’t for that dickwad, they might have spent the last few years fighting off Croats and trying to kill Satan in Sammy’s body. He shudders at the thought.

“It wasn't…look, it wasn’t your fault. It was just…I don’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier.”

Cas speaks up now, “There’s nothing either of you could have done.” He looks at his Dean, who is still slumped in a chair, eyes downcast, looking completely defeated. “Even if Castiel had come earlier and somehow managed to change things, that would have just created another timeline. If Dean visited our reality, that means it existed. It always existed, it will always exist. It is right now continuing to play out, and the only reason the timeline probably didn’t split after Castiel took us is because we were already dead and wouldn’t have changed that reality anyway. But he couldn’t change anything. We were in that universe and that’s where we’d be no matter what Dean did. Or no matter what you did.”

Again, Dean’s not sure he follows the whole multiple timelines thing, but it sounds like it fits with what his Cas was saying before, so he chimes in. “Yeah, what he said.”

The other Dean looks up at him and scoffs. Dean can’t even be annoyed at that, he’s just relieved to see this guy not looking so shattered. This is all so disorienting.

“Hey, do you want to get a drink or something?” They all turn to Sammy, who’s looking right at the other Dean. “With me. I mean, I can fill you in on what’s been going on these last five years, and you can tell me about what happened to you – and to me - over there. I mean, if you guys don’t mind,” he looks up at Dean and Cas now, and they shake their heads. He looks at the other Dean again, “I mean, if you’re tired, I completely understand, you’ve been through a lot today –“

“No, no. I mean, yes, yeah, I’d like that.” He lets out a long sigh. “It has been a long day. I could use a drink.”

Dean feels a little weird about Sam going out to bond with another version of himself, but he knows it’s probably the right thing to do. He can’t imagine what it would be like not to see Sam for five years, but he remembers what it was like when he thought he lost Sam forever. Let ‘em have a drink together. Plus, it’ll keep him and his other self out of each other’s hair, for a little while at least, and that seems to be a good idea.

“So, you got a shower in this place?”

Dean had almost forgotten that Cas was still here. “Yeah, sure we got showers. Here, I’ll, uh, I’ll show you the way.” He brings Cas to the bathroom he usually uses, stopping by a linen closet along the way to get some extra towels.

“You can use my shampoo and soap and everything. Unless you want the fancy stuff, then you can go steal Sam’s.” Cas laughs at this. “And here’s the knob for temperature, and, oh, I think I got some extra razors if you wanna, you know, clean up.”

“Would you like it better if I were clean-shaven?” Cas asks, with a raised eyebrow.

He’s not sure how to respond to that. “Um, whatever, you know, floats your boat. It’s your face. Doesn’t matter to me.” And he’s not sure why this turn in the conversation is making him feel uncomfortable, but he figures he’s probably spent enough time on the bathroom tour, and quickly leaves, slamming the door behind him. He hears the faint sound of Cas chuckling and then the shower turning on.

Dean heads toward his bedroom to check on the angel again, who looks, for all intents and purposes, like he’s sound asleep, still wrapped up in his blanket like a burrito. It’s kind of cute. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

He’s about to head to the kitchen to get to the beer, when he realizes that he’s forgotten to give the other Cas a change of clothes. For a couple of minutes, he looks around, sure that there are some clothes from the days when his Cas was human, but he really has no idea where those are. So he just grabs some of his own stuff – it’s not a perfect fit, but it’ll be good enough – and heads toward the bathroom. He knocks on the door, but doesn’t hear any kind of response over the thundering sound of the shower. They really do have awesome water pressure.

“Cas? I’ve got some clean clothes for you here. I’m just gonna leave them by the linen closet where we got the towels, okay?” He thinks he hears a muffled response, and that’s good enough, so he leaves the clothes on a shelf by the closet and heads toward the kitchen.

Beer’s not gonna cut it. Not after the day he’s had. This is the kind of day that really calls for whiskey.

He’s had nearly two tumblers full by the time Cas gets out of the shower.

“So, what do you think?”

Dean twists himself around from the couch, to see Cas, _his_ Cas, standing there in a towel.

“Uh…I, uh…what…where are your clothes?”

It suddenly dawns on him that this isn’t his Cas, but he was thrown off because apparently, this one decided to make use of the razor. Also, he’s thrown off because he’s just really not used to seeing Cas - any version of Cas – standing half naked in the hallway. And now walking closer, stopping directly in front of him.

“Yeah, I heard you say something about the clothes, but I couldn’t quite make it out. Hearing’s not what it used to be. By the way, fantastic shower. I feel like I’m cleaner than I’ve been in years.”

“Yeah, it’s…we like it.”

Cas laughs. “So…?”

“So, uh, so what?”

“The beard. I got rid of it.” He makes a gesture toward his face. “Do you like it?”

Dean looks down at his tumbler, which is now empty and which he apparently started unconsciously stroking at some point during this conversation. He stills his hand and forces himself to look back at Cas. “Yeah, sure, you know, like I said, whatever floats your boat.”

Cas has a wry smile on his face and Dean’s still not sure why he’s standing there in a towel modeling his lack of facial hair, so he gets up and heads toward the shelf where he left the clothes. He brings them back and hands the pile over to Cas. “Here, you can put these on. They probably won’t fit perfectly, but they’re clean.”

“Thanks.” Cas takes the pile from him and lays it down on the sofa, then picks up a pair of boxers and – holy shit, he’s gonna put his clothes on right here. Dean considers telling him to change in another room, but decides it’ll just be easier if he leaves instead. He walks quickly toward the kitchen. His back is turned to Cas, but he can still hear him.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m just, well, I guess I’m not very inhibited about these kinds of things. I forget that nudity is a big deal for some people.”

“It’s not a big deal.” He’s trying to sound casual, probably failing. “Just getting another drink.” He pours himself another. “You want anything?”

Cas sighs and walks into the kitchen. Thankfully, he’s fully clothed.

“Got any weed?”

Dean just laughs. “Jesus, you and the drugs. You sound like a teenager.”

“Hey, I’ve had a fucking long day. You gotta admit that.”

“Well, you did die.”

“And came back to life. And travelled to an alternate universe. And shaved my beard. It’s been eventful. I think I deserve refreshments. Besides,” he looks down to Dean’s glass, “you’re one to talk. How many of those have you had?”

Dean just rolls his eyes and then walks into his bedroom. He emerges a few minutes later with a baggie.

Cas’s eyes go wide and a smile breaks out across his face. “No way.”

“Yeah, well don’t go getting any ideas. This isn’t gonna be an ongoing thing. I don’t even really do this stuff.”

“Sure, you don’t.” They head toward the living room and sit down on the couch.

“I mean, every once in a while, a long while. But it’s not like I go looking for it, or even buy it.”

“Where’d you get this, then?” Cas takes the baggie from his hand, “and what is this anyway?”

It’s not a bag of pot, it’s a small secure bag with a stickered label on the outside, and one large perfectly rolled joint on the inside.

“Got it from my friend Garth. Kinda forgot I even had it, actually.”

Cas pulls the joint out of the bag and inspects it. It’s fat and in the shape of a cone, with a hard filter on the thinner side. Other than the odd shape, it almost looks like a cigarette, it’s so professionally rolled. Cas puts it to his nose, takes a long sniff, and closes his eyes.

“Whoever this Garth guy is, I want to meet him.”

“Yeah, well, you’d probably get along. He’s a pretty cool guy, once you get to know him. He’s a hunter, well, he was a hunter, now he’s a werewolf.”

“He’s a hunter…and a werewolf…and a pothead? Now I definitely want to meet him.”

“Well, he’s not exactly a pothead, not these days at least. He’s more of a family man. That’s why he gave me these. He wanted to get rid of the last of his stash.”

“In that case, I’d like to meet his supplier.”

Dean snorts at this. “Believe it or not, this is from a shop.”

“A shop?”

“Yeah, in Colorado. It’s legal there now. It’s not legal to bring it over state lines, but some old toking buddies of his went there and then brought this to him as a gift. He didn’t want to refuse it, so he accepted it and held on to it and then gave it to me.” 

“Shit.” Cas just shakes his head.

“What?”

“You guys do live in a better world. Next you’ll be telling me that gay marriage is legal.”

“Actually…”

“Get the fuck out.”

“Well, not everywhere, but it certainly seems to be moving in that direction.”

“It’s fucking paradise.”

“Trust me, it’s not paradise. These five years have been rough. I mean, yeah, there’s some good stuff that’s gone on, and I’m not saying I would ever want to trade it for the shit you guys had to live through, but it hasn’t been all, uh, brownies and rainbows over here, either.”

“Okay, well. I’ll take your word for it. But I’d rather not speak of unpleasant things. Not when we’ve got this,” he lifts the joint again and smiles like a kid in a candy shop. “You got a lighter?”

Dean takes his Zippo from his pocket and tosses it to Cas, who grimaces at it.

“You got a problem with my lighter?”

Cas tries unsuccessfully to spark it, then looks at Dean. “I hate these things. I never understood how you always seem to be able to light it on the first try.”

“Here, give me that.” Dean takes it from his hand and sparks it with ease. Cas brings the joint up to his lips and waits while Dean gets the hint and lights it for him. He feels a little awkward about it, for some reason.

Cas takes a long drag, then exhales a huge cloud of smoke. He passes the joint to Dean, who shakes his head. He points to the glass in his hand, which is now half empty. “Nah, I’ll stick with this.” He should probably slow down, he’s actually feeling kinda buzzed from drinking so much in such a short period of time.

“Oh come on, you’re gonna let me smoke alone? That’s no fun,” Cas nonetheless takes another puff, this one a bit smaller, from the joint.

“What, are you peer pressuring me now?” Dean laughs. “Uh, I’ll just say no.” Cas doesn't get the joke. Some things never change.

“Trust me, you want to try this. And I don’t want to smoke alone. I mean, I will,” He takes another puff, “but I’d rather have company. You even admitted, I’ve had a rough day. I died and everything. And it was a pretty brutal death.”

Cas pouts, and Dean wonders when Cas started pouting. Probably around the same time he started cursing and getting high all the time.

“Fine, fine.” He takes the joint from Cas, who is entirely too excited about his compliance. It’s not only because of peer pressure, though he was always a sucker for Sam’s puppy dog eyes, and apparently Cas has got the same effect on him. But he was already a little curious about that stuff Garth gave him, and shit, it had been a long day.

Dean takes a drag and lets it out slowly, noticing as he does that they probably need an ashtray of some sort. He taps the joint against the side of his glass, letting the ashes fall into what’s left of his whiskey. He probably shouldn’t drink anymore, anyway, especially if he’s smoking.

The stuff is powerful, he can start to feel it after just one hit. Even Cas looks like he’s pretty stoned already, even though he probably does this and much harder stuff all the time. He takes another quick puff and hands it back.

“So, Colorado? I think I may have to take a trip there. Fuck, maybe move there,” Cas says, and Dean laughs. It’s not really that funny, but it looks like he’s got the giggles already. “Where are we anyway?”

“Lebanon.” Cas looks at him curiously. “Not the country, it’s uh, a place in Kansas.”

“Okay. But what is this _place_?”

Dean tries to tell the story about the Men of Letters and how Henry Winchester came from the past, but he’s getting pretty high pretty fast and was already a little drunk to begin with, so it’s not the most elegant storytelling. Cas seems to get the gist of it.

“So you’re telling me that you came into possession of a fully stocked, demon-proof, luxury safehouse?”

“Yeah, that’s uh…” he’s so stoned now that words are hard, “that’s…correct.” He follows that up, like he’s some kind of surfer, with “Pretty sweet, yeah?” He’s not sure why he says this, but decides to blame it on the pot. 

“Sweet’s not the word. This is…this is fuckin’ amazing. Hey, you know when this would have come in handy?” Cas looks at him, his face dead serious.

“When?”

Cas leans in, and then practically shouts in his face, “In the fucking apocalypse!”

Dean’s not sure if Cas meant it as a joke, but he can’t help himself. He throws his head back, laughing so hard that tears come out of his eyes. Cas joins in, and they sit there, wheezing, until Dean finally says, “Yeah, yeah, I could see that. This may have been, uh, useful.”

Cas just shakes his head, still chortling lightly, and then takes another drag from the joint. It’s little more than a stub now. He hands it over to Dean. “Here, finish it off.”

“Nah, man, that’s all you.” Honestly, Dean probably smoked a lot more than he needed to. He feels warm and fuzzy, and could really go for some pizza.  

Cas looks like he’s about to argue, but probably doesn’t want to waste his breath while the joint slowly burns out, so instead he says “How about we recycle?,” and he takes a final hit, this time keeping the smoke in, so his cheeks are puffed out like a chipmunk.

Dean wants to laugh at this, but then he realizes what Cas means. “Oh, like shotgun?” He doesn’t really have a chance to say yay or nay to the idea, because Cas is already leaning over to him, pressing his lips to Dean’s and blowing the smoking in, and Dean reflexively sucks it in.

It’s an odd sensation, sucking smoke in from someone else’s mouth. From Cas’s mouth in particular. It’s such an interesting mouth, with that big upper lip, and it’s so textured. He’s always wondered what it felt like. He realizes suddenly that their lips are still in contact even though that’s no longer necessary. He pulls away, his mouth still full of smoke, his cheeks probably puffed out just like Cas’s were a moment ago.

Cas pulls back too, though his gaze lingers for a moment on Dean. Then he looks up and focuses his attention on something behind them. “Oh, you’re up. How are you feeling?”

Dean stands straight up and spins around. Cas, _his_ Cas, is standing there looking at the two of them, eyes wide.

“It’s not – “ Dean begins to say and then starts choking on the smoke that he’d forgotten was in his lungs, some of which is now escaping from his lips in a small cloud, while the rest sends him into a coughing fit. “It’s not what it looks like,” Dean says hoarsely, still coughing up smoke. He’s not really sure what he’s saying, and the next thing that comes out of his mouth, ridiculously, is “We were just doing drugs.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Summer 2009_

At first, Dean acted as if everything was fine. “Better than fine,” he would say. He laughed more, drank more, certainly bedded more women. There seemed to be a new one practically every night.

Cas knew that Dean was overcompensating, but did not feel it was his place to say so. Instead, he continued on as his accomplice. He knew he could never take Sam’s place, but he began to fill some of his roles.

He learned how to play the role of an FBI agent with some amount of competence, though his execution was far from flawless. He sat by Dean’s side in the Impala, even when it would make far more sense from a logistical standpoint for him fly separately to their next destination. He indulged Dean’s whims.

There was one whim in particular that Dean would not let go, though Cas secretly wished he would. Despite the pathetic failure of their first attempt, Dean was still convinced it was his personal mission to ensure that Cas, as he put it, “got laid at least once before world ends.”

It was not that Cas had no interest in sex. He had an abstract curiosity about the subject, and since inhabiting a human vessel, that curiosity had become less abstract and more insistent. However, it was still all very new to him, having a body. He wasn’t certain if Dean’s mission was worthwhile.

Moreover, he found their incessant failed attempts to complete that mission to be rather humiliating.

Dean gave up on bringing him to brothels after their initial experience with “Chastity” turned out so poorly. He suggested instead that they find a girl “the old fashioned way,” at a bar. When Cas countered that prostitution actually predated the organized sale of alcoholic beverages, Dean simply rolled his eyes and groaned. Cas was not sure what this was supposed to convey, but he had no desire to visit another brothel, so he did not pursue the matter.

While the brothel had been a place in which he felt pity for the girls, at the bars, he felt more pity for himself. Dean would often try to pick up two girls, one for each of them. This usually resulted in Cas spending the evening alone while Dean went home with one of girls. Or in one instance, with both of them.

Cas understood that he was awkward in human interactions. And of course, he was well aware that Dean was far more physically attractive than the average male. So he did not begrudge Dean his success. He only wished that he would not continually force Cas to accompany him to bars in the vain hope that he would engage in sexual intercourse with some girl, when he was not even certain that it was something he wished to do.

He indulged Dean in this, though, as he indulged Dean in almost everything, until one day he finally tired of it, and spoke out. Dean was disappointed, to say the least.

“C’mon, you’re giving up just because you struck out a few times?”

“A few? Dean, we have attempted this 14 times, and each time has been unsuccessful. I honestly do not care if I ever engage in intercourse with a human, so I wish you would not persist with this.”

“Aww, Cas, you don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“Okay, okay.” Dean sighed. “Let’s just try one more time.”

“Dean – “

“One more. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But I feel like you haven’t even really tried.”

“Dean, I have tried.”

“Look, how about this. You try it one more time, but really make a go of it this time, and if it doesn’t work, I won’t mention it again.”

“Really?”

“Really. But seriously, you have to try. No more sitting beside me and staring off into space while I try to entertain everyone. I mean, I can sell the ‘my friend’s a little shy’ bit, but you gotta at least look at the girl. Maybe even try to talk to her.”

Dean was justified in his critique. Cas did have a tendency to look around the bar, or simply to stare at Dean, while Dean attempted to engage girls in conversation.

“Fine, I agree to one final attempt.”

“And you’ll actually talk to them?”

“Well, what do I say?”

“Just ask questions. Nothing too personal. Just, you know, where are from, what do you like to do for fun. And then let them talk and nod your head like you’re really interested in what they’re saying. Seriously, it’s not that hard.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. You’re a good looking guy, Cas, you actually give this a shot, trust me, you’ll have no problem.”

Cas felt himself blush at the unexpected compliment, though thankfully, his pigment did not change sufficiently for Dean to notice.

“I will do my best. But if I do, and it does not work, then you promise that we will discuss the matter no further?”

Dean made an ‘X’ over his chest with his finger. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

That was rather morbid. “Why would you hope to –“

“Oh, shut up,” Dean interrupted, though he said it affectionately, and slung one arm around Cas’s shoulder. “Now let’s get going. Tonight is the night, Cas. It’s gonna happen.”

As a sign of his confidence, Dean rented another motel room next to his own, in case they both found girls who wanted to come back to their place. Cas felt it was a waste of money, but he had promised his best effort, and so he said nothing and attempted to stay positive. He did feel a little better about their outing than he usually did, probably due to his relief at knowing that he would not have to do this again.

They headed to a bar, and Cas pointlessly sipped at the beverage that would in no way be enough to get him intoxicated, but which justified his presence there. Dean typically found a girl, or a couple of girls, within 10 or 20 minutes. However, this time they just sat at the bar for over an hour, talking, while Dean occasionally swept his eyes across the room. “I’m looking for the perfect pair. This is happening tonight, Cas, I’m telling you.”

There was a glow in Dean’s eyes, and Cas actually found himself hoping that it would work out tonight, if only to make Dean happy. Finally, Dean’s attention focused on a pair of girls across the room. “That’s it. See - that girl in the blue sweater is checking you out.”

He followed Dean’s gaze and saw an attractive young woman with long black hair and thick, dark rimmed glasses who did seem to be looking in their direction. “I am certain she is ‘checking you out.’ Not me.”

“No way, man. It’s you. Look at her glasses, she’s a total hipster. I think you’re more her type.”

Cas was not familiar with the Hipsters, and wondered if it was an ethnic group or surname. He found it strange that he’d never heard of them. The girl appeared to be of Indian descent, and it did not sound like an Indian name. Nonetheless, he took note for future reference that there was a clan of some sort named Hipster, possibly from South Asia, whose members apparently possessed a genetic predisposition to myopia.

The young woman noticed that they were looking at her, and glanced away shyly, though now her friend was looking in their direction. “See now, the blonde cheerleader-type that the hipster girl’s hanging out with, she’s checking _me_ out.” He slaps Cas on the back. “Now that’s just perfect. One for each of us. You ready?”

Cas was not sure if he was ready but followed Dean nonetheless. He knew Dean would take the lead at first anyway, though he also knew Dean was expecting him to “step up his game” at some point this time.

Dean casually strode up to the two girls and introduced himself. The girls were, predictably, very responsive to his overtures.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you both. AJ, Natalie,” he turned and pointed toward Cas, “This is my friend Cas. We couldn’t help but notice your glasses were almost empty. Can we help you fix that?”

The girls giggled at that. Honestly, Dean could say just about anything and girls would be fawning all over him. They agreed and he and Dean returned to the bar to place their orders. “Just relax and follow my lead,” he whispered to Cas before they turned away from the bar and began walking back to the girls.  

But didn’t he always follow Dean’s lead? It seemed to be the only thing he did anymore.

Dean focused his charm on the blonde girl, and let go of his usual propensity to try to be the center of female attention, leaving Cas and the nearsighted woman together to make conversation.

“So….” He wasn’t sure what to say.

Mercifully, AJ took the lead. “So do you live around here?”

Cas opened his mouth, but again found that he was not sure what to say. He knew this was supposed to be an easy question to answer, but for him that was not truly the case. “Well…” he finally replied, “I travel a lot.”

“Oh really, where have you been?” She seemed genuinely interested, and Cas again struggled to come up with a response that was honest and yet plausibly human. “I have been to all of the continents.”

“Seriously? Every one but Antarctica, right?”

In truth, he had been to Antarctica, though it was incredibly dull and he did not stay long. Still, it would be difficult to explain why and how he managed to spend a half hour in Antarctica, so instead he just nodded his head.

He was relieved to find that AJ was apparently content to speak at length about her own travels, and Cas tried to remember to ask relevant questions. Travel was one of the few topics of human conversation that he was probably more qualified than most to take part in. After a while, he realized that he was actually enjoying this conversation. This woman was very easy to speak with. He wondered if he would have intercourse with her, and felt slightly nervous yet intrigued at the prospect.

When he and Dean returned to the bar for another round of drinks, Dean again whispered in his ear. “You’re doing great, Cas,” and Cas felt himself warm from the encouragement. He did want to please Dean, and was glad this had not yet ended in the kind of humiliating failure that usually resulted from these endeavors.

Dean offered another round of drinks, and the girls at first demurred, noting that they already drank too much to drive back home and would have to take a cab. They said this expectantly, and Dean inferred their intent.

“We can take you back home. Or…you can come with us?”

AJ and Natalie agreed to accompany them back to their place, though they were not yet aware that this consisted of two back-to-back motel rooms. As the four of them walked out of the bar, Dean suddenly swept Natalie up in his arms and began kissing her.

Cas at first stood dumbly waiting for them to finish, until he looked over AJ’s shoulder and noticed that Dean had his eyes open and was looking at him expectantly.

“Follow my lead,” he had said, and Cas surmised that Dean expected him to do just that. He observed Dean and Natalie, who were kissing quite passionately. Natalie was on her tiptoes with her back turned toward them, arms locked around Dean’s neck. Dean had closed his eyes and had his hands on Natalie’s hips, his body leaning fully against her. Cas had seen Dean with girls before, but had never really watched him, never before felt like he had permission to do so. It was quite fascinating.

He had actually forgotten his purpose in watching the two of them when he realized that AJ was following his gaze. She looked back at him and cocked one eyebrow, then laughed and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him in toward her mouth. He knew this was supposed to happen, and was in fact very relieved that she had taken the lead again and rescued him from his hesitance and self-scrutiny. However, it still all seemed very sudden, and he made a muffled noise of surprise as their mouths came together.

It was very…wet. He placed his hands on AJ’s hips, seeking to emulate Dean, and opened his mouth as AJ’s tongue pressed against his lips. He opened his eyes to look at Dean and Natalie once again, to make sure that he was doing the right thing, and he saw that Dean once again had his eyes open and was looking right at him. For some reason, he began to feel hot all over, and he was surprised to find himself echoing Dean’s movements unconsciously, pressing his body fully against AJ’s. Dean sort of smiled through his kiss and lifted one hand from Natalie’s hip to give him a thumbs up, and Cas sighed into his kiss, so relieved and glad that Dean was pleased with him.

This all happened in the span of a few minutes, and then the two couples parted from their embraces and headed to the Impala. Cas felt kind of lightheaded, and wondered if somehow the alcohol had started affecting him or if it was just a result of the kiss.

They pulled into the motel, and aside from a brief comment from AJ about how “you really weren’t kidding about travelling a lot,” the ladies did not seem to take issue with their destination. Dean opened the door to Cas’s room and then gave him his key before heading into his own room. AJ followed him in, turning on the light before closing the door behind them.

“So…” Cas felt mute again without Dean. He knew he was supposed to follow Dean’s lead, and he could clearly hear what was happening in the next room – more kissing and the sound of clothes being removed and tossed to the floor. In fact, it was almost as if he could see them, since he typically generated images to correspond with overheard sounds.

At any given time, he had a dozen or more moving images in his mind, representing different aspects of his environment, though he could usually focus his attention on one in particular and relegate the others to the background. In this case, he found it unusually challenging to focus his attention. The sounds and corresponding images of what was going on in the next room were very distracting.

“So…do you ever take that coat off?” AJ had removed her jacket and sat on the bed, looking at him with a bemused smile.

It was yet another simple question that defied an easy response. Because, no, he didn’t actually take his coat off. Not under normal circumstances, anyway. Instead of answering this way, he responded by making an exception to his usual rule and removing the coat, laying it gently on a chair. He sat down next to AJ on the bed.

“You don’t do this often, do you?” she asked, kindly.

“Do this?”

“Take girls home. Or back to your motel room.”

“I…uh…how can you tell?”

She laughed, quirking her head slightly.

“It’s okay. I actually don’t really do this either.”

“You don’t?”

She sighed. “I just had a bad breakup, and Nat insisted we go out and get wild. She doesn’t really do this a lot either, but she’s sort of in the same boat, so…here we are.”

The sounds of panting, lips smacking, and small moans in the next room continued to distract him, but he was interested in what AJ was saying. He was glad that she was so easy to converse with, and so understanding of his limitations. He tried to respond to her revelation with a question, as Dean had suggested, but did not want to ask about her breakup as it would probably fall into the category of “too personal.” He wondered if asking about another person’s breakup would also be considered too personal, and hoped that it was not.

“So your friend Natalie also had a recent bad breakup?”

“Well, yes and no. She broke up with her boyfriend 3 months ago. But it was like their 5th breakup in 8 years. She’ll probably get back with him. It’s ridiculous.”

Apparently, this was an acceptable line of questioning. He continued, learning that the two women met at a small company where Natalie worked as a computer programmer and AJ worked in marketing, and that AJ was not a fan of Natalie’s “on-again off-again relationship drama” but she valued her friendship nonetheless. She revealed that her name was Anjali but that people had called her AJ ever since she was a small child. She asked if Cas was short for something else and he told her that his full name was Castiel and that Cas was a recent nickname but that he had become quite fond of it. It was an altogether pleasant conversation, though Cas was frequently distracted by the sounds in the next room, which were growing louder and more obscene.

 Apparently, it distracted AJ as well. “Wow, they’re really going at it, aren’t they?”

Cas was rather startled, since he hadn’t realized that AJ was able to hear them. It was sometimes difficult to tell what humans were able to detect and what they were not.

He began to worry that Dean would realize that similar sounds were not coming from their room. Surely, he had his mind on other matters now, but still, Cas did not want to disappoint him.

AJ noticed the expression on his face. “Something wrong?” She was very perceptive. Or perhaps Cas was simply very obvious.

He wasn’t certain what to say, so he just blurted out the truth. “I very much enjoy speaking with you. But I am concerned about what I will tell Dean tomorrow if we do not ‘seal the deal’ tonight, as he expects.”

She began laughing uproariously. “Seal the deal? Are you serious?”

Apparently, this was not something he was supposed to say. He felt foolish, though relieved that she found his error humorous rather than upsetting.

“I’m sorry. I should not have said that.”

“No, it’s just…you’re kind of adorably clueless. Has anyone ever told you that?”

He blushed. “Clueless, yes. The other part…”

She laughed again and looked at him sympathetically. “So, your friend really wants you to get some action, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if we don’t do anything tonight, and he asks you about it tomorrow, just say ‘a gentleman never tells.’”

“But Dean often tells of his exploits.”

“Yeah, well, then, he’s not a gentleman, which I could’ve guessed. And I should probably be pissed to hear that since he’s with my friend right now,” Cas berated himself for again saying the wrong thing, “but I think that’s all a little besides the point, sincere we’re getting front row seats to their exploits.” She gave a little laugh.

He looked down, somehow embarrassed on Dean’s behalf.

“Besides, it’s not a given that we won’t ‘seal the deal’ as you say. And should never say again, by the way.”

“It’s not?”

“Well, I mean, you shouldn’t feel pressured to, just because your friend wants you to, if it’s not really something you want to do…”

“I-I, um, I do,” he stammered, “I mean, I-I think-“

“It’s okay, no need to get nervous. I’m not sure if I want to, I just…” she gave him a sly grin, “I wouldn’t rule it out.”

“No?” he felt suddenly out of breath.

“I mean, I did say you were adorable.” She leaned toward him and they began kissing again. The sounds coming from the next room were still quite loud, but somehow not as distracting. That was, until a phone rang and the sounds suddenly came to a stop.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he heard Dean saying in the next room.

“Just – hold on, I’ve got – I’ve got to take this,” Natalie replied and then there were footsteps and the sound of a door closing, as she apparently went into the bathroom. Dean groaned while Natalie began speaking rapidly into her phone. Cas couldn’t help but hear snatches of conversation, “you have no right to call me like this,” and “yes, as a matter of fact I am out right now.”

AJ pulled away, and looked toward the wall separating their rooms, “That ended kinda suddenly.”

“I believe Natalie received a phone call.”

“Oh really, I didn’t hear that. And she stopped in the middle?” Then she rolled her eyes, realization dawning, “Ugh, it’s probably the ex.”

Cas didn’t reveal what he had heard, but AJ did seem to be correct in her prediction. “Yes, you are probably right.”

“Seriously, they are just the worst. Now, I actually almost feel bad for your friend. Even if it he isn’t a gentleman,” she said with a small smirk.

“He is a good man. I feel sorry for him as well.”

AJ looked back at the wall and then back at Cas one more time, with a thoughtful yet mischievous expression on her face.

“I have an idea,” she said, then kissed him one more time before letting out a long moan.

Cas was taken aback. “I – um – what are you –“

“Hey, consider it entertainment for your friend who’s all alone over there. Or, you know, payback.” She moaned again, this time ending with a small squealing sound. “At least this way, you don’t have to worry about him not thinking you sealed the deal,” she added quietly with a wink.

Cas had no idea what to do. He sat on the bed looking at her, dumbfounded as she slowly built up her act, her noises getting louder and louder as she began bouncing on the bed, making it squeak. He was rather stunned when she added his name into the mix. “Cas…oh, Cas…Castiel!”

He heard Dean chuckle quietly, then say to himself, “Well, at least one of us is still having fun. That’s my boy.”

Cas felt an odd mix of emotions at hearing that. There was pride and a warm joy at hearing Dean’s approval, along with a tinge of shame that it was under false pretenses. He did also find this strangely amusing, as well. On top of that, he still had no idea what he was supposed to be doing.

He looked at AJ expectantly, and she took a brief break from her performance to whisper to him, “You too, join along.” He looked at her confusedly then did his best to imitate her. It was apparently not the right thing to do.

She cupped her hand to her mouth, stifling a guffaw. “Not like that. Oh my God,” she let a small laugh escape, then pressed her hand to her mouth again, quickly cutting it off, before continuing, “you sounded like a woman.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he whispered back.

“Just, you know, what guys do.” He stared at her with what was likely a blank expression, and she ruffled his hair. “Like I said. Adorable. Here, I have another idea.” She kept emitting small noises as she nudged Cas toward the center of the bed, then pushed him down.

Cas was not sure what he expected her to do next, but he certainly didn’t expect her to straddle him.

She bent down and brought her mouth to his ear, “Consider this…method acting. It’ll lend authenticity.” She began jerking her hips into him rhythmically, vocalizing in accord with their movements. He let out an involuntary grunt, and she stopped moaning for a moment to whisper an unexpected affirmation. “Yes, that was perfect, just do that every time I move into you.”

So Cas complied, grunting while she moaned, and it was all rather confusing, but he continued anyway. Dean seemed to approve. He heard him in the next room, quietly cheering him on, “that’s it Cas, make her scream.”

Cas felt flush, and wasn’t sure if was the encouragement or the woman riding him or both, but he was beginning to feel odd sensations in his body.

AJ noticed the reaction. She leaned down, grinding her hips into his growing erection. “Now, that’s what I call method acting,” she said with a smile, then kissed him quickly before resuming, apparently beginning to build slowly toward a climactic finale.

He was aware of many things. The sounds and the feeling of the woman gyrating on top of him. The feelings inside his own body, some of them familiar and some of them entirely new. The sound of Natalie, still in the bathroom, her voice rising with tension as she continued her conversation. And somehow, impossibly, the sound of Dean, beginning to move against the bed in time with their rhythm.

Cas’s breath caught, and he tried to reason with himself. That couldn’t be what he heard. It didn’t make any sense. Natalie wasn’t even in the room. He was by himself, and…oh, yes, that was definitely what was happening.

The images rose in his mind unbidden, if not unwanted, corresponding to the sounds he heard. He wasn’t sure if it was a heightened state brought on by his body’s reactions to everything happening, but the pictures he saw seemed especially vivid and multi-sensory. He could see Dean perfectly in his mind’s eye, stroking himself, and moaning so quietly that the girls could never hear him. But Cas could. He wondered if Dean knew that.

As AJ’s fake moans became more wanton, Cas realized he was also becoming louder, though this was not by design. His whole vessel felt on edge, like a taut string, and his vocalizations seemed beyond his control. Logically, he understood what was happening, but the experience was still somehow incomprehensible.

When he heard his name fall again from Dean’s lips, it became unbearable.

These were not words of encouragement or approval. At least, not in a detached sense. These were muted versions of the feverish repetitions that were now issuing from the woman on top of him. Only these were sincere. “Yes….Cas…fuck…God…Cas…yes” over and over, in time with his strokes. It was all synchronized now, a symphony of friction and breathing and sound, his and AJ’s and Dean’s, and every cell in his body was playing along, working along the crescendo to the inevitable, final…

His arm reached out and stopped AJ with sudden and unintended force, and she yelped in shock. Dean let out a soft groan, likely assuming that the climax had been reached, but then continued with his movements and the soft panting of his name. _His_ name.

This couldn’t be happening.   It was all a dream, it had to be. But he didn’t sleep, he didn’t dream, he was an angel, he was, he wasn’t, he couldn’t, God, yes, this was it, he was going to ejaculate, right here in this motel room, with nothing but a woman sitting still in wide-eyed in confusion on his lap and the sounds of his hunter in the next room.

He sat up suddenly and released his grip from AJ’s arm. She scrambled from his lap, and the tiny part of his consciousness that wasn't entirely consumed with this new and overwhelming physical experience wondered if he may have hurt her when he stilled her before. She did not appear injured, though, only startled, and so he excused himself and rapidly headed toward the bathroom.

Of course, he didn’t need the bathroom, only a temporary escape. As he entered, that tiny piece of consciousness that had worried about AJ registered that Natalie was ending her conversation, “Fine then”, slamming the door, and heading back to Dean, Dean, Dean…

Castiel closed his eyes and when he opened them, he was in the desert. He breathed a sigh of relief.

It was daytime in the Gobi. There was nothing but sun and sand and sky for miles. He stood still for several long minutes, focusing on his breath. He had never done that before, never needed to. But he knew that his vessel would respond to this, that he could reclaim his hold over its circulatory system in this way, slow the pounding heart, redirect the blood that had taken stake in his groin and brought this maddening need for release.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, AJ eyed him suspiciously. She didn’t seem frightened or upset, merely wary. “You okay?” she asked, and he nodded and apologized for his behavior. He didn’t know how to explain it. “I was just…overcome.”

Her expression softened and she gave him what was quickly becoming a familiar smirk. “Well, I can have that effect on people,” she said jokingly, and he was relieved that he had apparently not hurt or offended her.

Still, he had to work to keep his focus on her, and not on the lewd sounds that were coming from the next room. He couldn’t help it, though, was still in shamefully poor control of his reactions, and his eyes flicked to the wall involuntarily.

AJ noticed and chuckled. “Yeah, that again. Oh well, I guess we can’t complain now after what we did.”

It wasn’t just Dean. Naturally, Dean would not allow his solo actions to be audible to AJ. He was joined again by Natalie, and Cas’s confusion must have been evident, as AJ took note of his expression and concurred with his sentiment. “Yeah, I’m just as surprised as you are. I thought after the phone call they were done. I’m not sure how much you heard.”

Well, he was several thousand miles away, so... “I didn’t hear anything. When…uh, how…what happened?”

“Well, I don’t know how much of the details I picked up, though I’m sure I’ll get the whole story from Nat tomorrow. But basically, I heard the door slam, and then the two of them seemed like they were about to start a fight, and then next thing you know, they’re back at it.” The sounds were impossibly loud. “Didn’t miss a beat either, seemed like they picked up right where they left off.”

Indeed, it only went on for a few more minutes before cresting and ebbing. Castiel was grateful for this. He was not sure if he could handle hearing Dean again, even if it was him saying this woman’s name and not his own. His name. His head still spun at the thought.

The next morning, after they dropped the two women off, Dean turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a wide grin. “So…had a good night?”

Cas searched frantically for an adequate response. He lit upon the answer AJ had suggested.

“A gentleman never tells.”

Dean threw his head back and laughed. Cas tried not to let his eyes linger on the movement of Dean’s throat, the quiver of his lips, as he did so.

“Well, you don’t have to tell, buddy, I think the whole motel heard.”

Cas must have reddened. He felt the blood rush to the surface of his skin, and Dean rested his arm on Cas’s shoulder in a gesture obviously meant to convey comfort, though it solicited a different response. A shock of warmth spread from the point of contact throughout Cas’s whole body, and he felt a stirring, a yearning, for more.

Dean was seemingly obviously to this, and jostled him in a friendly manner. “Hey, no shame, buddy, you did good. Besides,” he added with a crooked smile and a wicked expression, “you weren’t the only one waking up the neighbors last night.”

“Yes, I know…” Cas thoughtlessly chimed in, then looked down again, cursing himself for his admission.

Dean shifted a little, looking almost embarrassed, but he kept his grin. “So you heard?”

Cas lifted his eyes to meet Dean’s, and nearly whispered his response.

“Yes. I heard.”

Their eyes held for a long moment, then Dean looked away. 

This time, Cas let his gaze follow the movements of Dean’s throat as he swallowed hard. The smile was gone. Dean didn’t look angry, or even embarrassed anymore, but his light mood had evaporated. Revelation dawned on his face, and he seemed almost solemn in its wake. They were quiet for the rest of the drive. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, this story switches perspectives, from the past/Endverse (in Cas's POV), and the present 'verse (Dean's POV). This chapter is from Dean's POV and continues where Chapter 2 left off.

_Now_

“We were just doing drugs?” the Cas-on-the-couch repeats, and literally falls to his side laughing, sprawling out over the sofa and clutching his belly.

Meanwhile, the angel keeps looking at Dean, looking at them both, in utter confusion. Something about the look on his face, and the sound of the other Cas laughing, and the absurdity of the whole situation, makes Dean erupt in laughter as well. Then again, maybe it’s just the pot. Yeah, it’s probably the pot.

“Speaking of pot,” Dean hears himself saying, though he hadn’t actually been speaking of it, and neither had anyone else, “I’m friggin’ hungry. Are you hungry?”

The question is obviously directed to the stoned heap of former angel on the couch, who replies quickly with “God, yes, food, please.” But Dean’s eyes are still on his Cas, who just knits his brows, no less confused.

Dean walks forward and slaps him on the shoulder. “How about you, you feelin’ okay? You were out for a while there.” The angel regains his composure, to some degree, and replies “Yes, I am fine. I was quite depleted, but I believe I have recovered fully. I…am not hungry.”

“Glad to hear it. That you’re fine, not that you’re not hungry. That’s a damn shame because food’s awesome. But glad you’re fine. We were worried about you there.”

The stoned Cas takes this as a cue to roll off the sofa and chime in, “It’s true, Dean was so worried about you, you should have seen his face. It was adorable.”

Now it’s Dean’s turn to be confused. Adorable? What the fuck?

“Nevermind that,” Dean says, and shit he must be really high, because he’s replying aloud to his own thoughts again, “what about pizza? Maybe we can order.” He stops and actually thinks about this. “Damn, they probably don’t deliver to secret lairs. Guess there is a downside to living in the Batcave.”

He’s half joking, though he really does want pizza more than pretty much anything in the world right now. But he must look seriously heartbroken, because before he knows it, his Cas disappears, and then reappears with two boxes of steaming hot pizza.

It smells amazing. “Cas, I could kiss you right now,” he says, and they’re both a little startled to hear the other Cas say, “you know, you really should.”

They stand in awkward silence for a moment, and then stoned Cas comes and takes a slice of pizza. He bites off a chunk and then rolls his eyes and moans in pleasure, “This is phenomenal. Thank you, Cas. By the way, I’m Cas, nice to meet you.” He smiles and tries to stick his hand out, but the pizza is deep dish and heavy and nearly falls to the floor. Splotches of sauce drop down, but the slice is saved. “Here, let me get this,” he says as he puts the slice of pizza down on the top of the boxes and then brings them toward the long table in the main room. Dean and his Cas follow.

“As I was saying,” he says, spinning around to face the angel, “It’s nice to meet you. Thanks for the pizza. And you know, for rescuing us and bringing us back to life. And taking us away from that apocalyptic hellhole and bringing us to the land of brownies and rainbows.” He laughs at this last part, though of course the angel is just as confounded by this as everything else he’s seen and heard so far.

Dean laughs too, though his mouth is full of pizza. The Cas-meets-Cas situation is pretty fascinating to watch, but damn, this pizza is good, and he’s not gonna wait until they’re done to help himself. It’s not like anyone expects him to have good table manners anyway.

He does look over to them now as they shake hands, and a thought occurs to him. He chews most of what’s in his mouth and then says, “We really need to come up with different names for you two. This whole Cas/Cas thing is gonna get annoying fast.” He’s already not sure what to call them in his head, and finds it a little strange that he seems to have defaulted to internally referring to the angel as _his Cas_.

“It’s true,” not-his-Cas says, “and that should be easy enough. One of us can be Cas, and the other can be Castiel.”

“That makes sense,” Dean mumbles through another mouthful of pizza.

“And since I haven’t been Castiel in a long time, it probably makes more sense for you to take that name.”

“So you would be Cas,” the angel says. Dean’s not sure about that plan.

Before he gets a chance to object, there’s a loud commotion and his gigantor of a brother stumbles in, laughing, with his arm wrapped around the dick otherwise known as other-Dean. Who probably also needs a new name.

“Cas!” Sam exclaims, and the way that both heads spin to face him is so much like something out of a sitcom that Dean starts to choke a little on his second slice of pizza.

Sam looks perplexed, and it’s no wonder. The two Castiels are nearly indistinguishable but for their clothing, now that neither sports a beard. Sam seems to do some slow calculations in his head – they must’ve really knocked back a few because they both look kind of wasted. Sam eventually seems to realize that slight scruff and the trenchcoat are pretty solid identifiers, because he walks over to hug their Cas. “Glad you’re alright, man. We were worried.”

“Yes, I heard. Apparently it was adorable,” Cas replies in utter seriousness. This prompts laughter from everyone else. Even the other Dean is laughing. He's also looking at the angel with a curious expression on his face. It’s not the same shocked and fascinated look he had when he was looking at Sam earlier, but it’s full of…something. Dean can’t quite make it out. But he doesn’t think he likes it.

Then Sam takes note of the pizza boxes. Apparently he’s drunk enough to embrace the awesomeness of junk food, or maybe the pizza just smells that good, because he goes right for it. Dean puts his arms around the boxes, shielding them. “Hey, get your own,” he mumbles, his mouth still full.

Cas just gives him a look, like “um, I got you that pizza, dipshit, it’s not yours,” though Cas wouldn’t really say it like that, but Dean gets the message and reluctantly takes his hands off the boxes.

Sam actually goes to get plates, and he and the other Dean each help themselves to two fully loaded slices.

“Oh man, this is incredible,” the other Dean says, and it’s probably the first positive thing Dean’s heard him say since he came to the bunker. Apparently his night out with Sam did him some good. Or maybe the pizza really was that good. “Chicago-style. Shit, where did you get this?” he asks.

“Chicago,” Castiel replies, nonchalantly. Dean and Sam laugh, while Cas shakes his head and stares off into space for a bit, and the other Dean says quietly “Wow, you still have Chicago.” They’re all silent after that, though the somber mood that’s suddenly descended doesn’t stop them from eating. Dean can’t help but think about that day, that awful day in Chicago, the last time he had real deep dish pizza.

And then he blurts out, “You know, I once had pizza with Death.”

Four heads turn toward him. Even though Sam and his Cas know the outcome of the story, they’ve never really heard it before.

Still, it’s the other Cas who speaks first. “Death. Like, Death-Death?”

“That’s the one.”

“You had pizza with Death?”

“Yep.” It sounds crazy when he says it, but what about their lives isn’t crazy.

“Well…what was he like?”

There’s a pause, and then Dean just says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Fuckin’ scary.”

Everyone begins laughing, and even he joins in. He’s never actually said this before, but fuck if that wasn’t one of the most terrifying moments of his life. He’s glad this broke the silence, so he keeps going, hamming it up a bit, though he doesn’t really have to exaggerate much at all.

“Yeah, it was scary as shit. Not a lot of shit is truly scary, after everything we’ve seen, but this…Because he’s just so cool, you know. I mean, talk about not giving a single fuck. He just tells me to sit down and have some pizza, like we’re old buddies having a lunch date.”

“So you did?” the other Dean asks, and he’s hanging on his every word, along with everyone else.

“Well, yeah, what the fuck, am I gonna say no to Death? I sat my ass down, and I ate some pizza, and tried not to shit my pants. Though I think I may have peed a little.”

At this, everyone just roars. Dean may regret telling this story when he’s sober, but for now, it’s nice to see everyone in a good mood.

They eat in silence for a couple of minutes, and then Dean steers them all back into their previous conversation, because they really have to settle this name situation.

“So, we were just talking about names. We need a way to distinguish between us when we’re all in the same room. We’re thinking for these two, one will be Cas, and the other will be Castiel.”

“And that it probably makes more sense for him to be Castiel and for me to be Cas, since Castiel is more of an angel name anyway, and I’ve gone by Cas for so long,” not-his-Cas says.

“Whoa, wait, we didn’t settle anything.” Dean feels weirdly possessive. “I kinda feel like, no offense guys, but it’s our reality, we should keep our names.”

“But Castiel is his name.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean knows this is true, but it still feels wrong. “It’s just…I call _him_ Cas.”

The other Cas smiles, looks at him, and says “Well, now you can call me that.” And then…is he just high or did the dude just bat his eyelashes at him?

Whatever that was, his Cas looks kind of of alarmed now. And the other Dean looks angry, for some reason. He puts down his pizza, and there’s a cruel smirk on his face and in his voice when he says “Maybe we should just call him Angel. Since, you know, he is one.”

There’s a look of unmistakable hurt on the other Cas’s face. Dean feels like he missed something. Still, it’s pretty easy to figure out why this would be a dig – his Cas is still an angel and the other Cas is not, and the other Dean, who Dean will privately just refer to as Dick in his head from now on, is using that fact to hurt him.

He feels suddenly, oddly protective of this other Cas. “Fine, we’ll call you Cas and him Castiel,” he says, then turns to the angel and says “if that’s okay with you.”

“I bear no objection to being called Castiel. It is my name,” he says with a shrug.

Dean’s somehow a little disappointed that he gave up so easily.

“I may still call you Cas when we’re alone just, you know, not when there’s the both of you around.” Castiel smiles at him, and Cas smiles at the both of them. He looks like he’s about to say something, then stops himself. '

“So that’s settled. Now, uh…” he looks at Dick, who would probably not be too fond of that as a nickname. “What about us?”

Dick just looks at him, and shit, this is going to be a tough one. Because Dean of all people knows how much he hates nicknames. “Jerk” is pretty much the closest thing he’s ever had to a nickname, and he doesn’t think that one’s gonna fly either, even if Sammy suggests it.

They stare each other down for a moment, and then, simultaneously, both say “I’m Dean.”

Sam and Cas laugh openly at them, while Castiel looks on in quiet amusement.

“No way dude. Like I said, our reality, our names. And Dean is my name.”

“Yeah? Dean’s my name too. And you know I don’t go by any other names.”

“Well…” Cas starts to say, but again appears to stop himself. It looks like Dick actually blushes at that.

Dean doesn’t know what going on there, but he sure as hell isn’t going to ask.


	5. Chapter 5

_Then_

They didn’t speak of it. They kept hunting side by side, but Cas stopped traveling in the Impala, instead meeting him at the site of their hunts.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Dean. Far from it. It was just becoming increasingly difficult to sit in such close proximity to him. And traveling separately seemed to make Dean more comfortable with him, which was a relief.

There was a quiet tension between them now. Though Cas at times wished for the easier rapport they previously had, he found to his own surprise that he didn’t truly wish for things to go back as they were. Despite the tension, and the fact that he and Dean were now spending less time together, he had no desire to return to serving as Dean’s neutered celestial ally. He had been awakened, and there was no going back.

It was rather like the decision to rebel in the first place. It was terrifying, full of uncertainty, and yet exhilarating at the same time. There were times when he could not stop thinking about Dean, about the curve of his lips or the feel of his skin, about what it would feel like to lick those lips, to be pressed up against that skin, and the relentlessness of it made him feel so powerless, so infuriatingly human.

One day, he even found himself, pulled by thoughts of Dean, back to the town where it had all started. He didn’t even realize what had happened until he saw AJ turn a corner. He blushed and attempted to make small talk. She’d just had lunch with Natalie, who to no one’s surprise had recently reunited with her boyfriend. She asked him what brought him back to town, since she thought he and Dean were on their way out a month ago. As in so many instances, he found himself searching for an acceptable reply to what should have been a simple question.  

Because, really, how does one say, “Well, I’ve been obsessing about that one time I listened to my friend pleasure himself while saying my name, so much that I seem to have involuntarily transported myself to the site where it occurred,” to the girl who you pretended to have sex with when that happened?

Yes, it could be downright humiliating. But there were also times when he rode high on his newfound emotions, taken by a kind of manic grandiosity, this sense that no angel, maybe no one, had ever felt so alive.

He was in love.

It was obvious now. It was obvious why this emotion held such sway over humans, made them write songs and poems and create sculptures and launch wars and kill each other and die for each other.

He had already died for Dean once. Maybe he had always been in love with him. It certainly seemed to fit. He was entranced with him from the beginning, from the first moment he touched his soul in Hell. On Earth he was maddened by him, but also inspired as he had never been before. He had given up everything because he believed in Dean, wanted to see him succeed, wanted to save his world and save him and make him happy.

Yes, it was very likely that he’d always been in love with Dean. It made perfect sense now. It just wasn’t until he heard his name fall from Dean’s lips in that moment in that motel room, until he felt the reaction it caused in his own body, the ceaseless flood of feelings and thoughts and images, that he recognized it for what it was and gave it a name.

He was panicked for a short time after their conversation in the car. It wasn’t even a conversation, just three words, “Yes. I heard.” and then stone silence for hours. When they stopped in front of a diner and Dean stepped out of the Impala, he thought perhaps it was over, that Dean would no longer want him around. But instead Dean paused just before he entered the diner, looking over his shoulder, and uttered his first word in what already seemed like ages.

“Coming?”

And so Cas did. As he always did, he tried his best to follow Dean’s lead. Which for a time meant hunting as usual, and spending the moments they weren’t talking about their hunts in a slightly uneasy silence, punctuated by occasional bouts of overly boisterous displays of platonic camaraderie.

Needless to say, Dean had dropped any mention of bringing Cas to bars or helping him pick up women.

Every once in a while, the tension would ease, and they would fall into the awkward but comfortable friendship that they had been developing before all this began.

And every once in a while, the tension would grow into something unpleasant, and Dean would seem unduly irritated at Cas. Usually, when this happened, Cas would just leave him alone for a while, and when he returned things would be more or less normal.

And every once in a long while, the tension would spark and crackle and become something magnificent. Cas had no idea when or how or why it would happen, but seemingly out of nowhere, the energy would shift, and he’d be utterly intoxicated by it.

It happened once in New Hampshire, after they’d killed a demon that had taken up residence in a pastor and put a different spin on the term “fire and brimstone” with his flock. They’d been in New England on a tip about the Colt, which just turned out to be a dead end like so many others. Dean was still dubious about the existence of the Colt, he was sure it’d been melted down or destroyed by Lilith or some other demon. But they were considering all options. Non-existent guns, false leads, ridiculous lore – whatever might help them kill the devil was fair game. And in the meantime, they just had to settle for killing demons along the way.

The demons were having a field day in the end of times, even those who weren’t close to Lucifer. The world was going to hell and everyone could see it, humans and demons, and it made them bold and reckless and even more destructive than usual. 

It was a terrible thing, but on the other hand, this also made the demons easier to spot and kill. They took care of the possessed pastor in record time. At first they tried to play the usual game, Dean pretending to be a new resident looking for a church to call home, in order to investigate the pastor and make sure they had correctly identified the source of trouble. The demon sensed something off right away, but didn’t bother to take the time to figure out what it was or how much of a threat it posed. He simply took Dean by the throat and lifted him, eyes turning black as he began to choke the life out of him, back turned to Castiel as if he were no threat.

That was sufficient confirmation. Cas was almost nonchalant as he reached up and smote the demon, grabbing Dean with his other hand so that he didn’t fall when the demon collapsed.

Dean clutched at his side, trying to regain his breath, and Cas led him to a pew and sat him down. Maybe it was their forced proximity, or the adrenaline rush from nearly dying, or the fact that he was already breathing rather heavily. But as they sat side by side in the church pew, it happened.

Cas did not sense the change immediately. At first, they were just sitting there, and he was sufficiently concerned for Dean’s well-being that he didn’t even think about the fact that they were touching, though they almost never did.

Dean sat at his right side, tightly grasping Cas’s coat with both hands, breathing hard. Cas had his right arm stretched across Dean’s back, holding him as if he was still responsible for keeping him upright.

Dean’s breathing became less strained, but remained heavy. His grip on Cas’s jacket slackened, but he didn’t let go.

“Thanks, Cas,” he croaked, his voice still hoarse from being strangled.

“Anytime,” Cas said, and that made Dean smile softly. He looked down at his hands, as if wondering why they were still on Cas, and Cas followed his gaze and wondered the same thing.

This was when Cas became aware of the fact that his hand was still on Dean. And that Dean hadn’t pulled away.

He became hyperaware of Dean’s skin, and the electromagnetic field that surrounded it. His own bodily sensations were secondary, but still prominent, in his awareness. His skin tingled and his breathing became labored as if he too had just been choked. When Dean lifted his eyes again, Cas could see that his pupils were dilated, and he felt his own dilate in response.

Dean licked his lips, an unconscious movement that was made conscious when Cas deliberately tracked the movement of his tongue. Cas wasn’t sure, but it seemed then like Dean purposefully left his tongue at the corner of his mouth for a moment, just to see if Cas would keep staring at it.

He did.

They sat like that, heavy breaths and wet lips and tingling skin, and Cas would not have minded staying there for hours, or days, if Dean would allow it.

But at some point, Dean took note of their surroundings. They were sitting in a church, with the body of a dead pastor on the floor beside them. When Cas realized this, even he felt a fleeting sense of shame at letting arousal take hold of him in such a context. Dean was likely mortified.

They took care of the body in silence, and Dean was particularly distant for the next couple of days. But it was worth it.  
Cas replayed the scene in the church over and over in his mind. Nothing happened, and yet, it was everything. It was acknowledgment. Confirmation that maybe he was not alone in this. That he wasn’t simply making it up. Which was something that he never would have feared before, but so much had changed. The simple fact that he was replaying something in his mind was evidence of that.

Angels did not reminisce. They were aware of the past, stretching behind them for millennia. They could re-enter the past mentally, even physically on occasion, but they did not dwell in memories. For all that truly mattered, they lived in an infinite present. It was probably a blessing, as it would likely become burdensome to be weighted with memories for thousands of years.

But he was not weighted by these memories. He replayed these scenes as a human would their favorite movie or song, not only the scenes that had happened since the motel room, but also those that had happened before. The moments that he hadn’t recognized as such, but in revisiting, became further confirmation that the bond that he felt may actually be reciprocated. Dean fixing his collar the first day he pretended to be an FBI agent. Dean quirking a smile at him after he accidentally said something foolish, with a look that was more affection than mockery. Long gazes. So many long gazes.

Angels did not reminisce, but Cas did. He cherished these memories.

And angels certainly did not fantasize, but Cas did that in excess. In his replays of that scene at the church, he let go of the shame that had tinged it in reality, and imagined torrid alternate scenarios that may have ensued. He thought about how Dean’s tongue lingered and what it would feel like to have that tongue in his mouth and on various other parts of his anatomy.

He thought about Dean saying his name, Cas, in that breathy way, and imagined him saying all the other words that began and ended with that hard sound in the back of his throat. _Fuck_ and _suck_ and _cock_ and _come_. They were all just words before, but now they were like spells. The mere thought of hearing Dean saying them, moaning them, was enough to make Cas feel like he wasn’t in control of his body.

He always took control, eventually. He allowed himself to dwell in memories and fantasies for brief periods, and it nearly always ended the same way, with Cas rock hard and wanting desperately to come. He could have let himself do this as well. It would have been very easy; all he had to do was let go. But he never did. He wasn’t sure why.

Maybe he was clinging to this last vestige of control. He could have taken greater control over his vessel. He could halt his physical reactions before they had a chance to build to the point of discomfort, especially now that he understood early signs of arousal. He could probably even do something about the obsessive replaying and fantasizing. He knew that this was partially his human vessel’s reaction to the feeling of being in love. He could have taken control of his neurotransmitters, eliminated the oxytocin that left him yearning for contact, regulated the dopamine that left him hankering, like a drug addict, for a fix.

But he never chose to do this, either, and he knew why. These reactions, as uncomfortable as they sometimes were, as out of control as they made him feel, they were just a reflection of his bond to Dean. And that was something that went far beyond neurotransmitters and hormones and bodily reactions. His feelings may have manifested themselves in his human vessel, but they were deep in his grace. They were part of him now, and sometimes he felt that they were the best part of him.

He surrendered himself to love as he had once surrendered himself to God, and he felt in some way that this was what he was meant for. That perhaps this was why he was brought back. Whether this was true or not, it felt true. And it made him praise his unseen Father and rejoice to be alive, even as the world crashed and burned around them.


	6. Chapter 6

_Then_

People get confused about creation and evolution, because they forget that evolution is essentially a creative process.

And vice versa. Blueprints and computer programs and conveyor belts – the idea of creation as a practice in which something is manufactured according to a predetermined plan with no deviation – it’s all very recent, even by human standards. 

Angels have always known this. They see no contradiction, because they’ve witnessed creation. They witness it every day. New thoughts forming, events unfolding, adaptation to unexpected circumstances...it's everywhere, all the time.

This was all to say, that while Castiel was certain that they never planned to start a hunter training camp on Bobby’s property, it would probably be fair to state that they created it. Or at least, they sparked its evolution.

And while Castiel was certain that he never planned to be in this position, backed up against a wall with a pair of not-quite-emerald-green eyes gazing lustfully into his own, if he had to explain it, he would have probably said that it also creatively evolved from all that came before it. Not to say that it was inevitable, just that it was one possible step in a natural, if unexpected, progression.

What they were progressing _towards_ , he couldn’t say. Evolution doesn’t have an endgame. They may be headed to the end of the world, or perhaps some dystopian future in which only hunters survived.

In the more immediate future, he could be headed toward random casual sex with a guy that looked sort of like Dean when he squinted his eyes and made liberal use of his ever increasing powers of imagination.

If one had to pinpoint a time where it all began, it was probably when Bobby called Dean and Cas about a highly unusual death involving a 25-year-old who seemingly aged decades overnight. Once Dean not-so-subtly confirmed that Sam would not also be there, he insisted they check it out. Cas, ever in Dean’s orbit, followed along.

They found the source pretty easily. This initially created additional problems, as Bobby gambled a large portion of his life away, and Dean nearly followed suit. Despite Cas’s objections, he bet 50 years of his life in a poker game, in order to win Bobby back some of his own years. He played a lucky hand and won, though Cas still ended up killing the dealer on principle. There were other lives to be saved.

Bobby almost seemed disappointed at how things turned out. He confessed that he found it difficult to find a reason to live now that he was out of the game as a hunter. Dean insisted he wasn’t out of the game, and that, more importantly, he was family. There was a note of desperation in Dean's voice, and Cas knew that Dean was truly alarmed at the idea of losing Bobby. With both of his parents dead, and Sam gone, Bobby really was the only family he had left.

They decided to stick around Bobby’s place for a while. Dean allowed Cas to handle transportation for distant hunts, begrudgingly admitting that it no longer had the deleterious effects on his digestive system it once had. He still insisted on taking the Impala for nearby jobs, and after a while Cas began to ride alongside him again when he did.

In addition to providing comfort for Bobby and a sense of family for Dean, their new arrangement also put a temporary hold on their emerging…whatever it was between Dean and Cas that began in that motel room. Cas still thought of it, incessantly, of course, and the tension was still thick at times when the two of them were alone. More often then not, though, they weren’t alone.

This became more and more true, as Dean at some point began bringing back recruits from their hunts. He didn’t call them recruits, but that was probably the most accurate descriptor. Soldiers in training. Warriors-to-be in the battle against Lucifer.

He didn’t really actively recruit them. He didn’t have to. With the apocalypse ramping up, there were more than enough people who’d noticed that something was brewing, or that had already been directly affected. The first time they brought someone back to Bobby’s, it was just because the poor kid had nowhere else to go. He was 17 years old, though taller than Dean. Cas couldn’t help but wonder if his vulnerability and stature did not remind Dean of Sam. Of course, he never said that aloud. Miguel had been out on the street already for months before losing his best friend to a wretch, a nasty and exceedingly mucus-y creature they had no desire to deal with again. Dean brought the boy back, telling Bobby it was only temporary.

Bobby liked the kid, though, and he had nowhere to go, so he stuck around. They began teaching him about hunting. Initially it was at Miguel's insistence, but it brought something out of Bobby. Under different circumstances, Robert Singer would have been a terrific professor. He was brilliant, and patient, and had a knack for caregiving while also being very straightforward and not tolerating any slacking. Training this kid, it made use of his greatest assets as a hunter. And perhaps it reminded him that none of these assets were lost when he lost the mobility of his legs.

Dean and Cas saw the change. They even spoke of it, though Cas never mentioned that he also saw in these trainees the potential to fill a void in Dean’s own life. Dean loved being a mentor. While it was true that he mentored Cas in some ways, their dynamic was not one of an elder and younger brother, if for no other reason than the fact that Cas had been alive for countless millennia before Dean was even born. But with these new recruits, Dean could play the big brother again, at least in small ways.  

They never explicitly agreed to start incorporating invites to Bobby’s into their hunting trips, but this became part of their routine. Most declined, but every once in a while it would result in a new addition, or several, to the Singer house. Since it wasn’t a very large house, it wasn’t long before people began setting up tents on Bobby’s property.

As word spread of the makeshift training camp, people started coming on their own. People would find out about the place from recruits, and word travelled from there. Even hunters began sending people they encountered on their cases Bobby’s way, the same way Dean and Cas initially had. Some of the more social hunters would sometimes stop by as well, checking in on the new recruits and even leading some of the trainings.

Soon, a few hunters started staying for longer stretches. Ellen and Jo seemed to be there full time. Cas was happy about that, as he saw the way they interacted with Dean. Even though Dean hadn’t known Ellen and Jo nearly as long as he knew Bobby, there was a distinctly familial vibe when they were together. It was sweet, seeing Bobby, Ellen, Jo, and Dean together, as if they were just a normal nuclear family. Normal, of course, being a relative term, as they were usually holding weapons or talking about the apocalypse.

Dean never talked about Sam. Bobby had tried to talk sense into him at one point, with Cas and Ellen chiming in, but it turned into a screaming match pretty quickly. After the fight, or really more accurately right in the middle of it, Dean stomped out the door. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going, and he didn’t return or contact anyone for two days. They spent most of the time terrified that something had happened to him, but then he just returned and resumed business like nothing had happened.

They left it alone after that.

The recruits faced their first major real-life challenge sooner than expected, when dead people from Bobby’s town started coming back to life. Bobby threatened to shoot each and every person who dared come near his resurrected wife, but in the end, he had to shoot her. The consequences of this incident were devastating, and they even lost one of the recruits.

One might think that this would scare some people off, but not a single person left. In fact, it seemed that the shared experience strengthened their bond. Ellen spent more time with Bobby, more or less moving in. Plenty of folks from the town began dropping by after that, too, though most stayed in their own homes and just came in occasionally for trainings.

As the camp grew and the weather turned cold, it became apparent that the current setup was in no way sustainable. They’d never expected to have this many people for this long, but the numbers just kept growing.

One camper was particularly vocal about the need for a new setup. Her name was Amanda and she’d never been all that fond of the camping situation. She didn’t exactly complain about it, and she was grateful to learn, but it was very obvious that slumming it was not her style. She introduced the other hunters to the term “glamping,” and spent at least an hour every morning on her makeup and hair, even though many of the trainings quickly had her as sweaty and rough looking as everyone else. Still, she was a hard worker and a decent person, and she had a point about their challenges.

“The bathroom situation alone is reason enough to find a new place. Two bathrooms and one shower for 23 people has got to be some kind of health code violation. Even if some people are less committed to personal hygiene than others.”

Bobby felt the need to defend the conditions on his property, even though he essentially agreed and was beginning to go a little crazy with all these people around. “Well, we’ve got the port-a-potties now, so the toilet situation is under control.”

“Port-a-potties are not a solution. Port-a-potties are never a solution.” Amanda made no effort to hide the look of disgust on her face.

“It’s better than what was goin’ on before.”

“Can we never mention that again? I’m still not fully recovered.”

“Okay, princess, if you don’t like it here, you can go on then. No one’s stoppin’ you.”

Amanda looked hurt. “Look, I’m not trying to offend you, Bobby, or be ungrateful. I don’t want to leave you all. I just think we need to think about our next step here. Do you honestly think that we can continue like this?”

Bobby had no response to that. Of course they couldn’t continue like this.

Ellen spoke up. “Girl’s got a point. Even if the bathroom situation is ‘under control’, we still got winter comin’ soon. Folks ain’t gonna be too happy out in those tents.”

Bobby sighed. “I know.”

“Okay, then.” Amanda smiled. “We’re agreed.”

“Well, you got any suggestions for alternatives?” Bobby huffed. “‘Cause I ain’t exactly hidin’ a secret mansion in my pocket. This is what I got.”

“Mansion…” Amanda began, “that’s actually not a bad idea.”

“What, you got a secret mansion somewhere?”

“Actually…”

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”

 “Well, _I_ don’t have a mansion, but I do know someone who does. Actually, I know several people who do.”

Dean, who’d been sitting not too far away from the action, but had yet to comment, couldn’t resist letting out a “hmph.” Amanda shot him a glare.

“I know several people who do, but I know one in particular that may actually be willing to let us use his place. He’d always believed in occult things, said something happened to him when he was a kid that made him realize that this stuff was real. Since I knew he’d be open to it, I talked to him about what happened, and about this place. He was completely fascinated. He actually dropped by a couple of times, since he owns a couple of buildings in the area and one of his main houses isn’t too far away. He even considered coming and joining us. But he’s accustomed to a certain level of…”

“Yeah, we get it,” Dean interrupted, “He’s another rich douchebag who wouldn’t piss in a port-a-potty if his life depended on it. We get the picture.” Dean made no secret about his opinions on people with money. “What’s your point? If he’s accustomed to the good life, you really think he’s gonna let a couple dozen random strangers with weapons into his place?” He looked at Amanda, and said in an exaggerated manner, “I’m sorry, _one_ of his places.”

“Actually, he’s quite open-minded. He’s taken in plenty of people over the years. Just because he’s not a fan of port-a-potties doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to share what he has.”

“Yeah. And you think that’s gonna be sustainable?” Bobby looked skeptical. “How many bathrooms he got in this _mansion_?” Bobby wasn’t exactly a fan of the super rich either.

“Twelve, I think.”

There was silence for a moment, except for Ellen, who let out a low whistle. “You gotta admit, that’s a helluva lot better than two bathrooms and a couple a port-a-potties.”

Bobby looked slightly offended, but he had to agree. “Okay, let’s see if Mr. Mansion’s on board. If so, I’m more’n happy to say sayonara to these folks for a while. If the place he’s got ain’t too far away, I can go back an’ forth between my place and his for a bit, let the other hunters take over for a while. I wouldn’t mind havin’ my house back.” Still, his eyes darted to Ellen, “I mean, not everyone has to leave. Unless you wanna. Feel free. Go right ahead-”

Ellen cut him off. “Aw shut up, I ain’t goin’ anywhere unless you personally shove me out the door. But it sure would be nice to have fewer people in the house.”

They all concurred. Amanda excitedly promised to talk to her friend right away, though it seemed like no one really expected him to agree.

To everyone’s utter shock, he did.

Dean and Cas scoped the place first. They didn’t think that Amanda was lying, but she’d never actually been to this palace-of-a-dozen-bathrooms, so they thought they should check it out. And they didn’t say it, but everyone knew that Dean wanted to check the guy out as well. Make sure he wasn’t some kind of predator. Or too much of a douchebag.

The man was actually quite sweet and charming. But that apparently didn’t stop Dean from hating him anyway.

Maybe it had something to do with the way he looked at Cas. Like there were stars in his eyes.

Cas didn’t pick up on it right away, though he did notice that the man’s attention seemed to be on him, even when his words were directed at Dean. Cas assumed this was just because of the man’s lifelong fascination with the paranormal. He’d been nearly speechless when Dean and Cas popped into his parlor. Amanda had warned him, even told him when they would be coming, but he was still quite startled by their sudden appearance.

The first words out of his mouth were, “You’re an angel.”

His eyes were completely focused on Cas, even though at that point they hadn’t introduced themselves, and he had no way of knowing which of the two was the angel.

Still, Cas’s reply was blunt as ever. He looked at the man, and simply said, “Yes.”

“I could tell right away, you…you’re so…bright.”

Cas wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Um…thank you. That is very…kind of you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m being so rude. My name’s William. But you can call me Billy, everyone does. I guess you know that, as Amanda surely told you.” His face reddened as he offered his hand to Cas. “You must be Castiel."

Cas shook his hand, while Dean stood on the sidelines, looking bored and slightly pissed while Billy held on to Cas’s hand for a length of time that even Cas realized was probably too long to be socially appropriate. Finally he let go, and turned toward Dean, looking like he was waking up from a long sleep. “And you must be Dean.”

Dean grunted and shook the guy’s hand. Their handshake was substantially shorter.

Billy quickly turned his gaze back to Cas. “I’m really sorry I’m gaping, it’s just…I know Amanda told you some of my history, right? I saw something when I was 9 years old…it was…Amanda said that based on what she’s learned it was probably a demon possessing someone. What I saw was impossible. I tried to talk to my father about it, but he made it clear that he did not believe me and I should never speak of it again. So I kept it to myself, for the most part. But I became obsessed with the occult. When my father passed away, I took over his company, but I also allowed myself to finally pursue my interests. I began talking about it with other people, not everyone of course, just a select few who I trusted. And I began to collect things. I have a library devoted to the paranormal. Here, I’ll show it to you!” He said all of this in practically a single breath. 

Though he must’ve been in his late thirties or early forties, he had a youthful exuberance that was hard to resist. Dean and Cas followed him to a large room with nothing but two long desks in the middle. Every wall was covered in books.

Dean couldn’t help but be a little impressed, especially after he took a random book off the shelf, and saw that it was an old hand-written book. He flipped a page and saw a passage on ghosts and other spirits. “Man, Bobby’s gonna flip his shit when he sees this place.”

Billy led them to a middle shelf in the corner. “This is my section on angels. I’m sorry there’s not more. I…I guess I always thought…perhaps because of what I saw…I just found it easier to believe in malevolent paranormal forces. I didn’t give much consideration to the possibility that there may be…” He just left his sentence hanging, as if he’d forgotten that he was talking, and continued to stare at Castiel.

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, okay, we get it, angels are real, big shock. Don’t worry, most of them are dicks too, so you weren’t that far off base.”

“Still, an angel. An angel is standing in my library. I just can’t…I have so many questions.” He shook his head back and forth, as if cleaning water out of his ears. “But, that’s not what you’re here for. I’ll…I can show you the rest of the place.”

He did, and even Dean had to admit, the place was spectacular. There was more than enough room for people to stay indoors, even if more people joined. There was also a guesthouse in the back, and the grounds were huge, leaving plenty of space for combat training.

“I hope it’s enough,” he said, with a sincere humility that was bordering on absurd given the circumstances. “If not, I do have some buildings not too far away. One is an apartment complex. I can empty it out. I’d rather not evict people…many people have lived there for a long time. But, for you –“

“No need to start evicting people. This’ll do.” Dean said abruptly.

They returned to Bobby’s house, where Bobby, Ellen, Jo, and Amanda sat, waiting for the verdict.

“It is ideal. We should begin moving people to the new locale immediately.” Cas said, before Dean had a chance to say anything.

Amanda beamed. “See, what did I tell you? Did you see the library? He told me about it, but I saved it so you’d be surprised. And isn’t he an absolute sweetheart?”

“Yes, he was very gracious,” Cas said, at the same time Dean said, “Eh, still a rich douchebag.”

Amanda folded her arms and looked at Dean. “He is not a douchebag and you know it.” She looked at Cas. “Right?”

“As I said, he was very gracious.”

Dean looked at him and rolled his eyes. “Well, of course, you would think so.”

The look on Amanda’s face reflected the confusion Cas felt at this statement. “I don’t understand.”

Dean rolled his eyes again, “C’mon…” his voice went up half an octave. ‘Oh my God, an angel in my very own living room,’”He made a swooning motion with his hand. “I may just die right here.”

Amanda chuckled at that. Castiel was slightly embarrassed, but tried to brush it off. “Seeing an angel for the first time can be an overwhelming experience,” he said, remembering, but not mentioning, his first meeting with Dean in that barn. Yeah, he had turned up the theatrics a bit for that meeting, but he liked to think that Dean would have been just as shocked even if he hadn’t. 

“Yeah, overwhelming is right. He was like a teenage girl at a Backstreet Boys concert.”

“What are back street boys?” Cas asked, and Dean quickly answered “Trust me, it doesn’t matter,” while Jo said, “Nice reference, Dean. What is this, 1998?” He looked at her for a second and then pointedly ignored her comment.  This just spurred her on even more.

“Oh come off it Dean, you can’t call this guy a douchebag just because you’re jealous of all the attention he gave Castiel.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he looked suddenly like he’d been caught doing something naughty. “Jealous? What…why…what…?” The look he gave Cas was almost a pleading one, though Cas had no idea how to respond to this.

“Yeah Dean, you’re always used to getting attention, I bet it drove you crazy that he thought Castiel was more interesting than you.”

Dean looked visibly relieved, but still said, “No. Joanna. I am not jealous of the attention Cas got. Let Billy boy have his little crush. I could care less.”

Cas was indignant. “I am certain he does not have a crush. He is merely a fan of the paranormal, and I am not of this earth. That is all.”

“Actually…” Amanda began to say, and suddenly all eyes were on her. Her eyes were on Cas, eyeing him critically. “Now that I think about it, you are totally his type.”

“His…type?,” Cas barely squeaked out. Ellen and Jo both suppressed laughs. Even Bobby looked slightly amused, one corner of his mouth turned up, while the rest of his face was the picture of exasperation.

Amanda grinned. “Yeah, he likes guys, and I could totally see him having the hots for you. He’s a sucker for blue eyes, and yours are probably the bluest I’ve ever seen. I’m not saying he’s not awed by the angel thing, but that probably just makes him want you more.”

“See?” Dean said, though his tone was not so much one of victory, but something more like rage.  

Bobby had had enough. “Okay, we get it, this guy wants to get under Cas’s trench coat. Can we skip the soap opera here, or do I need to get you some tissues so you can talk about your feelings and cry?” He looked at Dean. “Is the place good, or what?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah…yeah it’s good.”

“Well, then let’s get a move on, and get these people the hell outta my house already.”

Ellen and Jo hollered and gave each other a high five. They weren’t moving, but they were certainly happy at the prospect of taking hot showers again.

Once all was said and done, six people remained at Bobby’s. Or rather, five people and one angel. It was Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Dean, Cas, and Miguel. Since Miguel was their first unofficial recruit, Bobby and Miguel had become quite close, and Bobby looked quietly pleased when Miguel asked him if he could stay at his place instead of moving to the mansion.

Although Dean slept at Bobby’s, he and Cas went back and forth between the two spaces almost daily, usually spending most of the day with the campers. A couple of other hunters stepped up though, and people began teaching each other basic skills, so Dean and Cas began going on a few more hunts, sometimes letting a recruit or two join if they thought they could handle it.

Bobby and Ellen weren’t that far away, but they mostly stayed in the house, occasionally going to the mansion and sometimes just staying for a week or so. Jo and Miguel went more frequently, often accompanying Cas and Dean. Eventually, Jo and Miguel began staying over more often, until it seemed they were half living at Bobby’s, half at Billy’s.

Dean remained resolute about sleeping at Bobby’s. And though it was an unspoken request, he made it clear that he would prefer it if Cas stayed at Bobby’s too, though he needed no sleep and would probably have been more useful at the new headquarters.

Jo couldn’t help but point this out. “Why is Cas here at night? Everyone’s asleep. He has nothing to do.”

“Everyone’s asleep over there too,” was Dean’s retort. “He’d be just as bored.”

“Not everyone. There are a few night owls. Billy usually stays up late in his library.” Dean just glowered at this. Jo did not notice, as she went on, “Plus, it would be nice to have Cas guarding the rest at night.”

“What, we don’t need guarding?” Dean said, then blushed and looked at his hands, “I mean…”

Jo just gave him a look. “Do you need guarding, Dean? Really?”

“No.”

“Well, these people do. They’re still new at this, and I can guard them, but it’d be nice to have angelic backup.”

Dean looked at Cas, “What do you want to do?” He looked back at Jo. “I’m not his keeper, you know.”

As was so often the case, Cas was at a loss as to what to say. A part of him – a large part – screamed _Stay with Dean. Watch over Dean. Do what Dean wants. Make Dean happy._ But Jo’s logic was unassailable. Dean must have finally accepted that, because he sat down and sighed.

“Fine, go. You’re right, it makes sense.”

“I can alternate nights.”

“That’s fine,” Jo said, then turned her attention back to Dean. “Though I still don’t understand why you want Cas here when you’re not even awake.”

Dean flushed. “It’s not that I want him here. I just…don’t want him there. With that guy. Trying to get…under Cas’s trenchcoat.” The look on his face was a mix of anger and disgust.

Jo was suddenly outraged. “What the hell, Dean? Since when are you a homophobe?”

“I’m not –“, Dean sputtered, “Look, I got nothin’ against gay guys. I just got something against guys. They’re all creeps. If Billy was trying to get in your pants, I wouldn’t want you there either.”

Castiel was slightly disheartened to hear Dean compare him with Jo, as he knew that Dean saw her as something like a little sister. Still, he was intrigued by Dean’s concern about him and Billy.

Jo folded her arms, but relaxed her posture and lowered her voice, seemingly satisfied with his explanation. “Yeah, Dean, but if he was trying to get in my pants, I’d tell you to mind your own business, because I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. And if I can, you know Cas can.”

“Fine. Whatever. It’s settled. Can we talk about something else now? Or even better, can we not talk?”

That effectively ended the conversation, and this is how Cas began spending every other night at the mansion, and slowly getting to know its owner. It was true, he spent many nights up late in his library, reading books, writing, or working at his laptop. Once Cas began staying over, though, he lost all interest in other activities. He had endless questions about angels and heaven, and Castiel was happy to indulge him.

Though Cas was certainly no expert on the topic of flirting, he did begin to see evidence of romantic intentions. The way that Billy looked at Cas, his attention rapt, as if Cas were the most interesting thing in the world. And certainly, at least part of that could be attributed to his intense curiosity, which Cas found endearing. But there was something else, too, in his eyes. The way they darted intermittently to Cas’s mouth, or other parts of his body. The way that he would sometimes get distracted just looking at Cas, and then come to his senses and confess that he’d drifted off and hadn’t caught the last part of what Cas had been saying. He looked at Cas like…well, like Cas looked at Dean.

Despite Dean’s misgivings, Cas found it all simply flattering. It was nice getting attention from someone, though of course he would have infinitely preferred to get it from Dean. Still, if he were capable of being attracted to someone other than Dean, he thought he could potentially be attracted to Billy. His soul shone bright, and he was a good conversationalist. He was also very pleasing to look at, with extremely symmetrical features, and green eyes that were not quite the color of Dean’s but still lovely in their own way. His hair was quite a bit darker, and that combined with his facial structure made him look a bit like John Winchester in his younger years. He had a youthful glow, which, along with his innocent and excited demeanor, belied his age. Yes, if he could be attracted to someone besides Dean, he would probably be attracted to Billy.

But he couldn’t.

It came to a head one night, when Billy retrieved some aged Scotch from another room, and brought it to the library with two tumblers. It was just the two of them, as it usually was, and Billy, claiming that he’d had a long day, invited Cas to join him for a drink. Cas agreed, and Billy was overjoyed, even though Cas told him that it was probably a waste, as he could not possibly get drunk from a few glasses of liquor.

“That’s fine, I’ll get drunk enough for both of us.” Billy smiled brightly as he poured out two glasses and handed one to Cas. They clinked glasses and Billy downed half of his in one gulp. “Trust me, it’s not a waste. For one thing, it makes me feel a lot better having you drink with me. One person drinking in their house at 2am is pathetic. Two people doing it – that’s a party.”

Cas smiled back at him, and watched as he very quickly fulfilled his promise of getting drunk enough for two people.

This is how Cas ended up with his back against one of the vast walls of books, looking into Billy’s eyes and honestly contemplating the possibility of sleeping with him.

It had begun innocently enough. Billy began to effusively compliment Cas. He often complimented him, but he was usually far more subtle. This was anything but subtle.

He leaned over and put his hand on Cas’s knee. He rarely touched Castiel, and if so, it was usually just his arm or shoulder. Cas was a bit startled but didn’t move. Not at first.

Billy gushed. “Cas, you’re so amazing. And…no, I have to tell you this. You’re amazing. And not just because you’re an angel. Though that’s…I mean, I still can’t believe…it’s mind blowing. I feel so lucky. But no, not even just because you’re an angel, it’s because you’re you. You’re so interesting, and you know so much, and you’re so kind and you keep me company, and I feel like I could listen to you forever. And look at you…you’re…God, you’re gorgeous. I mean, your eyes…and your…your lips…”

This is when Cas opted to move away, as Billy’s compliments became increasingly focused on his physical appearance, and he began to lean in to what Dean would call his “personal space.”

He stood up and gently removed Billy’s hand from his knee and placed it on the desk. Billy’s eyes followed his movements, and he was quiet for a moment.

Cas took the opportunity to speak. “Billy, I…very much appreciate your kind words. However, you are very intoxicated –“

“Exactly!” Billy then popped up, and began moving toward Cas, startling him into silence. With every step Billy took toward him, Cas moved backward. Billy seemed not to notice this, until Cas had his back to a wall, and Billy stood directly in front of him.

“I got drunk on purpose…I don’t even like alcohol….” His eyes briefly landed on the nearly empty bottle of Scotch. “That was my father’s. I don’t drink. Obviously.” And that would explain his demeanor. Dean could easily drink that much and not even exhibit any signs of intoxication. Needless to say, Cas was not even a little tipsy.

“I got drunk because…I just needed to get up the nerve…to tell you…I had to tell you how amazing you are…and….I had to see…I need to know….if there’s any chance at all…I mean…” He leaned closely into Cas’s space before he pulled back and looked at Cas with confusion. “How did you get back there? Wait, I…oh my God, am I attacking you or something?”

Cas laughed at that.

“No, I guess, if I were attacking you, I’d be halfway across the room by now, huh?”

Cas nodded, and Billy, slightly more aware but still incredibly, embarrassingly drunk, took that as an invitation, or at least as permission, to get closer.

At first he just leaned into Cas, aligning their bodies and pressing the side of his face with his own. Cas felt Billy’s hot breath on his ear, and it sent shivers down his spine. In truth, he’d been starving for physical contact ever since the incident in the motel. Physical contact from one person in particular, sure, but Cas found, to his surprise, that he enjoyed having the feeling of this body pressed against his, this voice whispering in his ear, “God, Cas, you’re so fucking hot. I want you. I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you.”

It was everything he wanted to hear, everything he’d fantasized about. Even if it was coming from the wrong person.

It was so close. So close to his fantasies that it unlocked them, and a flood of images came rushing to his brain, old fantasies alongside new ones. He imagined this was Dean pressed against him, Dean’s breath, Dean’s words, and that Dean would fuck him against this wall. The actual physical sensation of having someone right there – it was like suddenly adding an extra dimension to his fantasies.

Billy may have been slow in noticing some things, but he was quick to pick up on Cas’s physical reaction. He moaned against Cas’s ear. “Oh my God, you’re hard.” He rubbed his own cock, also hard as a rock, against Cas’s own, and this time they both moaned.

The sensations were overwhelming. It reminded him of that night with AJ, but was so much more intense. By now, he’d spent so much time thinking about what it would feel like to have Dean’s body pressed against his own, that now having a man’s body pressed against his was dizzying. Billy put his hands on Cas’s hips and pressed them together again, nipping at Cas’s ear and drawing a gasp.

It was too much. He pushed Billy away, gently. Their lower halves remained locked together, but there was some distance between them. Cas looked Billy in the eyes. “We shouldn’t do this.”

Billy groaned and rocked his hips slightly, eliciting another involuntary sound from Cas. He looked at Cas with a ravenous hunger that Cas couldn’t help but find alluring.  Intoxicating, almost. Certainly more intoxicating than any bottle of liquor could ever be.

Cas closed his eyes and thought about it. Thought about Dean. Thought about the cravings that had tormented him. Would it really be so wrong to give in?

But he couldn’t. It would be wrong. Wrong for so many reasons. Cas knew he owed no fealty to Dean, who had most likely slept with several women since that night at the motel. And while there were some similarities between this night and that one, there were substantial differences. AJ was having fun with him, and probably knew that Cas’s unexpected reaction was at least partly due to the thrill of having Dean listen in, even if she didn’t know that Cas was also listening to him. But Billy…Billy wanted him. He really, really wanted him. And it would be unfair to use Billy’s body and his affections while pretending he was Dean. It was unfair to Billy. More than that, Cas knew, even as his body reacted to Billy’s touch, that he didn’t want to have sex with someone while pretending it was somebody else.

Billy leaned in again, at first just breathing against his neck. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he purred into Cas’s ear. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.” He rocked his hips again, and it felt so, so good…

He pushed Billy away again, gently, and looked into his eyes. “I don’t want this,” Cas said softly.

Billy immediately dropped his hands from Cas’s waist, and moved several steps back. “Really?” Cas nodded. “Well, fuck.” He walked back toward his chair and slumped into it.          He looked like a kid who’d just been told he wouldn’t be going to Disneyland. He even said “Aww, man,” in a tone that would have made Cas laugh if he didn’t feel so bad for him.

Cas went back to the desk and sat down beside him. Billy put his head on the table, leaning to the side to look at Cas with one eye open and the other smushed shut against his arm. “Now I'm drunk. And rejected. This sucks.”

“Do you want to be sober?”

“Huh? You can do that?”

Cas pressed two fingers against Billy’s forehead. Billy sat up straight and immediately turned a bright scarlet.

“Hey! I didn’t say I wanted to be sober.”

“Would you like to be drunk again? I can do that as well.” Cas reached over, and Billy pushed his hand away.

“No, no…that’s okay.” He laughed and then groaned. “It’s just that sobriety makes things a lot…clearer, and…” He took a deep breath. “I just made an ass of myself, didn’t I?” He ducked his head down, burying it in his hands.

Cas wanted to comfort him, but he wasn’t sure how. He lightly touched Billy’s shoulder, hesitant to initiate too much physical contact. “No, you didn’t.”

Billy raised his head, and said, decisively, “Yes, I did.”

He seemed so sure that Cas was loath to contradict him. “Well, perhaps, but it’s no matter. I don’t care. We can still be – “

“Oh seriously, am I getting the ‘we can still be friends’ speech.’ C’mon, angel, you can do better than that.” Cas’s wounded feelings must have been visible in his expression, because Billy quickly followed it up. He looked straight at Cas. “Hey man, I really, truly appreciate that. I definitely want to still be friends. I really do think you’re amazing, I wasn’t just saying that because I was drunk, or…” he looked away for a moment, embarrassed at the memory, then looked back at him. “Everything I said, I stand behind. I feel incredibly lucky to know you. And I really hope that I didn’t ruin our friendship.”

Cas smiled. “You did not.”

“Good.”

“Though perhaps I should stay at Bobby’s during the nights.”

“You don’t have to. Nothing has to change. “

“Maybe just for a little while.”

He sighed. “I guess that makes sense,” Billy gave a noncommittal shrug with his assent. “I’ll miss you though,” he added with a crooked smile.

Cas was so charmed he almost wanted to kiss him. Almost.

The moment was interrupted when Billy looked at him squarely. “May I ask you something, though?”

“Certainly.”

“Is it him?”

“Him?”

“You know who I’m talking about. Dean. Is he the reason why you don’t want to do this?”

Cas was taken aback. He hesitated long enough that it may as well have spelled out his response, but he still tried to cover it. “I – Dean and I are not sexually involved.”

Billy gave a small laugh at that. “Yeah, I figured. Guy wouldn't be nearly as angry if he got to have you. But he wants you.”

“I don’t – Dean is heterosexual.”

Now Billy just guffawed. “Yeah, I’m sure. Blazingly heterosexual. Painfully heterosexual. I bet he makes a point of bagging as many women as he can, right?”

“Bagging? Oh, you mean sexual intercourse. Yes, he has been with many women, and greatly enjoys it.”

“Well, let me tell you something, from someone who has refined his gaydar for a couple of decades. I’m not saying that guy doesn’t enjoy having sex with women. That very well may be the case. But I’d bet half of this house that he also enjoys having sex with men. Or that he would, if he let himself. And he wants to. He wants you.”

“I don’t think – he doesn’t –“ Cas stuttered, though his heart surged with hope that what Billy was saying was true.

“And I know you want him. I don’t know why I’m saying all this. I’m not drunk anymore, but I guess you’ve already turned me down, so I’ve got nothing to lose.” He looked at Cas pointedly. “I want you to be happy, Castiel. But just because you want him and he wants you, it doesn’t mean you’ll go riding off into the sunset together. Trust me, I practically majored in ‘straight’ guys in college. Closet cases are the worst.”

“Closet cases?”

Billy looked at him affectionately, as he often did when Cas didn’t understand a reference. “Guys who want guys but won’t admit it, to other people and sometimes even to themselves. Things are getting better, but there are still a lot of people in the closet – still hiding from who they are. It’s fine to help them out as friends, counsel them and whatnot. They need it. But you do not, under any circumstances, want to fall for one. There lies nothing but heartache.”

A bittersweet smile suddenly arose on Billy’s face, accompanied by a barely perceptible laugh. “Though I guess I still haven’t learned some lessons. Like don’t fall for a guy who’s in love with someone else. Even if he is an angel. A ridiculously gorgeous angel.”  

Cas looked down, overwhelmed by the compliment and everything that came before it.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Again. I guess I can’t blame it all on the booze this time,” Billy said, but Cas shook his head before he’d finished speaking.

“You’re not making me uncomfortable. It’s just…there are many things that you said that…I suppose I will have to think about. And I appreciate how candid you have been.” He took Billy’s hand. “I appreciate you.”

Billy looked as if his heart were melting, but he quickly interrupted himself. He rolled his eyes and dramatically put his head on the table, mocking his earlier drunken posture. “Aww, man,” he said again, in that childish tone of voice, and they both laughed. “You’re killing me, Cas! A man can only take so much.” 

“I’m not sure what I did, but I apologize.”

“You’re still doing it! Why do you have to be so cute and perfect?” Billy shook his head, a smile on his face despite his flattering accusations. “Go back to Bobby’s and let me go to bed and pretend that I have a hangover so I can stay home from work tomorrow and feel sorry for myself.”

Cas complied with his wishes, though not before they shared a hug and a tender goodbye. Right before he left, Billy said one more thing that left Cas spinning. “I know I shouldn’t say this. I should just take my rejection and move on. But I know myself. I don’t fall too easily, and I’m not going to get over you any time soon. And I don’t think I can imagine a time when I wouldn’t want you in my bed. So, if you ever change your mind…even if you’re still hung up on ‘him’…just say the word. I’m not making any guarantees, but I’m about 99.5% sure that I’d go for it.”

Cas popped back into Bobby’s, his head still filled with thoughts of Billy and Dean and what had happened and what it all meant. He was usually good at being aware of his surroundings, even when preoccupied, but he must have been entirely focused on his thoughts, because he didn’t even realize Bobby was awake and in the same room until he was standing right in front of him. Even then, Bobby had to make his presence known.

“Cas. You there? Did you hear what I said?”

“What? Oh, Bobby. Hello. Why are you awake?”

“What the hell’s gotten into you, boy? I didn’t know angels could space out like that. You daydreamin’ or somethin’? Actually, nevermind that, I gotta talk to you about somethin’ real important.”

“Important? Is it Lucifer? Or did something happen to Dean? Is he okay?” Cas began to look around frantically.

“Calm down. It’s not Dean, you idjit. It’s Sam.”

Cas stilled. “Sam?”

“Yeah, Sam. He needs your help. Now.”


	7. Chapter 7

_Then_

Bobby was right about Sam. He needed help, though the severity of the problem was not instantly apparent when Cas showed up in front of Sam’s table at a nondescript diner.

Sam was startled, though if the other patrons of the establishment had noticed an angel suddenly materializing before their eyes, they must not have been all that impressed by it.

“Cas? What are you…how did you find me?”  

“Bobby told me where you were. He said you needed my help.”

“Ah.” Sam just looked down at the table, where two plates of food sat mostly untouched. One was his usual fare, a salad with chunks of grilled chicken. The other was a greasy burger. One bite had been taken from the burger.

“You’re not finishing your food.”

“Yeah…guess I’m just not hungry.” In fact, he looked starved. His face was gaunt, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Every sentence he’d spoken so far had come out slowly, as if it took effort to speak.

“Do you mind if I finish this?” Cas said, and rapaciously began eating Sam’s burger.

Sam’s reply was unnecessary, but he gave it anyway. “Sure, be my guest.”

Cas nodded and took another bite, then closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste. Sam stared at him curiously, then shook his head. He filled Cas in on the cases that had brought him to this town, the woman who ate until she exploded, and then the other odd occurrences.

"A huge spike in drug overdoses, a man that ran into the interstate waving his hands yelling 'look at me,' a couple that had apparently died of dehydration in the middle of a sex marathon. I'm not sure how they're connected, or if they even all are." He stopped and looked at Cas again, with an expression of bewilderment. “Not that I mind, but…since when do you eat burgers? Since when do you even eat?” 

“Exactly,” Cas said through a mouthful. “It’s a clue.”

“A clue?”

 “These people you describe…they were all hungering after something. It’s Famine.”

“Famine? As in - the horseman?”

“Mmhmm,” Cas nodded, then moaned in pleasure. “This is really good.”

“But isn’t Famine all about food? I mean, that explains the first woman that brought me here. But what about the others?

“It’s food, yes, but not just food. He’s making people crave what they want most.”

“And you want…burgers?”

“It’s the vessel. Jimmy enjoyed red meat. His soul is gone, but this body still wants it.” And Cas did want. But he didn’t tell Sam the whole truth. His vessel may have wanted meat, but he – the angel and the vessel both – wanted what it always did. Badly. He could hardly tell Sam that he was currently fighting a painful erection and struggling to push away images of Dean in a dozen positions, spread naked, underneath him, on top of him, on his knees…yes, he could not tell Sam any of that.

He looked at Sam’s still untouched salad and then back at Sam’s. “You’ve been craving demon blood.”

Sam looked down at his lap, ashamed, but didn’t answer.

“I would transport you, but it would be pointless. You’ve already been infected. The craving would not cease. Though I suppose we could lock you up.”

“No, I have to…if it’s a horseman, I have to fight him. I have to get the ring.” His eyes shifted, as if he were covering something up. “He has a ring too, like War did, right?”

“Yes.”  
“And cutting it off will kill him, and get rid of this?”  

“Yes, but I will take care of it.”

“Yeah, if you can tear yourself away from burgers long enough,” Sam said, noting the way that Cas was eyeing the food on neighboring tables.

The craving for meat was far shallower than the other craving. It reached only the body and not the angel inside, not really. Though the distinction between Cas himself and the physical form he inhabited had begun blurring the moment he felt his first true craving.

He shook himself and hoped that focusing on the meat craving would at least partially sate him, keep him from going insane with want. He needed to get out of there as well, but he couldn’t really tell Sam that either, because Sam was truly in danger.

“Sam, you should not get any closer to the horseman. Your craving will only intensify, and you will not be able to control yourself.”

“No, Cas, it’s the horseman, it’s my only chance…”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, it’s just, uh…okay, I can’t get into it, but I got a tip that it may be possible to trap Lucifer using the rings from the 4 horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

“Who would know such a thing?”

“Look, I don’t really know, and I don’t know if this guy can be trusted. Honestly, he’s kind of a dick. But he knows things…he…he’s been right before.” Sam’s looked pained. Cas didn’t know what he was thinking about, but he guessed that it had something to do with Dean. He didn’t ask.

“So we will find the rings. But you cannot fight this battle.”

At that point, Cas should have punctuated his statement with action. He should have grabbed Sam by the arm and locked him away somewhere, then perhaps returned to Bobby and Dean to ask for counsel before coming back to face the horseman. But the thought of seeing Dean in this state was nothing short of excruciating. And the cravings may have impaired his judgment. Because he foolishly agreed to let Sam stay in his motel room while he sought out Famine.

It ended with him on his knees and Sam full of demon blood.

He was paralyzed with desire, so hard he was sure that if he was human he would have exploded already. He truly thought for a moment that he might die, and perhaps he should have been more ashamed at the idea of dying in such a state, but all he could think was that he was going to die and he’d never gotten to touch Dean.

Sam burst through the door, pumped on demon blood, and what should have been a blaring disaster ended up saving them. Temporarily, at least.

Cas watched, helpless, half his mind still turned inward into his own fantasies, while Sam twisted the demons that Famine had just consumed, killing the horseman in the process.

They got the ring, but all was not okay. Cas was still wracked with desire, but he knew Sam was in far worse shape. He’d succumbed again to addiction, and even though that may have worked in this situation, in the long run it could only destroy him.

He grabbed Sam and flew them both to Bobby’s. He knew Dean might be there, knew that he didn’t want to see Sam, but it didn’t matter. They had to save Sam.

As it turned out, Dean wasn’t there, and he and Bobby quickly moved Sam to the panic room. When that was taken care of, he took a breath and closed his eyes, trying to use every technique he’d ever developed for calming his thoughts and physical reactions. It didn’t work. He was grateful at least for the shapeless overcoat that hid the prominent bulge in his pants.

Still, there must have been something in his manner that was disconcerting, because Bobby looked him over, perturbed. “You alright, boy?”

“Yes, I am fine,” Cas said, unconvincingly. His heart was racing, and he may have even been sweating, though he had never done that before. It was moist and unpleasant.

Then, against all good judgment, he asked, “Where is Dean?”

“Well, I ain’t his secretary, but I’m guessin’ he’s over at the big house. That’s usually where he’s at this time a’ day.”

“I should tell him about what happened.”

“Maybe. Though knowin’ Dean, that idjit’ll probably stop listenin' as soon as he hears Sam’s name.”

“That is true. Perhaps I can convey the story about Famine without mentioning Sam. Either way, I should go to the house, and…" he knew he sounded like he was just making up excuses, which was mostly true, "check on…everyone.”

Bobby eyed him. “Alright. You go ahead and do that. You sure you okay?”

“Yes, Bobby. Thank you for your concern..” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the ring.  “And thank you for taking care of Sam. Please give this to him when once he has recovered.” He handed the ring to Bobby.

Cas didn’t wait for Bobby to respond. Every fiber of his being was bringing him to Dean, even though he knew there was nothing he could do. When he arrived, he was both crushed and relieved that he didn’t see Dean right away. Crushed because he felt as if he would die if he didn’t get his hands on Dean soon, and relieved for the very same reason. Because there was very little reason to believe Dean would go along with this, and Cas was not entirely sure he could stop himself if Dean was in his presence.

The thought made him shudder. He could never truly hurt Dean. Could he? But he felt possessed. Not by a demon or any other entity, but by some animal force within himself, something he realized now he’d only gotten the barest hint of.

He saw Billy walk into the parlor where he’d arrived, deep in conversation with a new addition to the house. There it was. The solution.

Any thoughts about whether this was a good idea, or whether it was fair to Billy, were tiny dots on the edges of his consciousness, pushed out by all consuming need. This was not a perfect solution, but it could work. He hoped so, at least.

He walked up to Billy, and stopped him mid-conversation. “I need to speak with you.”

Billy looked alarmed, though he rapidly tried to school his features, probably for the benefit of the new addition. “I’m sorry, Jenna, will you excuse me for a moment?”

They walked to a corner of the room, and Billy allowed the worry to seep back in. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“No. Yes. Umm…” Cas wasn’t sure how to phrase this. And then he remembered. “I changed my mind.”

Billy’s alarm turned to confusion. "You changed your mind?"

“I changed my mind,” Cas repeated more slowly, while pointedly looking Billy up and down and hoping he would catch on. “You said if I ever changed my mind –“

“Oh!” Billy’s face contorted into an almost comical picture of surprise. Cas may have found it funny if he was in a more humorous mood. As it was, he was just relieved that Billy understood. Though he was getting impatient.

“Do you understand?”

“Um…yes.” Billy was still recovering from his shock. “I just, didn’t expect…after last time…what made you change your mind?”

Cas felt a twinge of guilt at this. But Billy had made the offer, knowing full well where Cas’s true affections lay. “Do you want to discuss it? Because I would prefer to act on it.”

Billy opened his mouth and let out a short sound, the barest hint of a protest, before apparently coming to his senses. “Good point. Gift horse, mouth, all that. I shouldn’t look…um…okay, hold on just a second.” He turned around and called across the room, “Jenna, I have to…discuss something further with Castiel here.  We’ll continue later, okay? Okay.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, just grabbed Cas’s hand and dragged him into the hallway.

They entered the master bedroom, and Cas nearly threw him on the raised four poster bed. “Wait! Cas, wait.”

Cas growled. He was truly tired of waiting.

“This isn’t my room anymore. It’s the biggest room, so I gave it over to a group of 4 people that came in together.” Cas took a moment to absorb his surroundings, for the first time noticing the open suitcases and clothes strewn over the room, and the two large air mattresses pushed against the side of the wall. “Then why are we here?”

“I just have to get some things. Hold on just one second, I promise.” He chanced a kiss, and Cas grabbed him with both hands, pressing his tongue into Billy’s mouth. When Billy pulled away, he was practically breathless. “Okay. Wow. Shit. One second. Stay right there.”

He practically sprinted through a doorway in the back of the room, presumably to the bathroom. Cas guessed he may have been relieving himself, but the sounds he heard were not compatible with that. There was the sound of a drawer opening, some rustling sounds, and then Billy came rushing back in the bedroom, his hands full of  condoms and a large bottle of what appeared to be lubricant.

Cas rolled his eyes. The condoms were not even necessary given that he was an angel, and he could have retrieved or manifested lubricant in an instant if necessary. But he had no wish to explain this. They’d obtained their items, and after Billy stuffed the condoms in his pocket and then looked around searchingly, Cas grabbed the bottle of lubricant and hid it under his coat.

He was hiding a lot under his coat.

“Can we go now?”

“Yes, yes, let’s go,” Billy said, and then led Cas up a flight of stairs and down the hallway to a guest room. This was substantially smaller than the previous room, but still quite roomy. Instead of a king size bed, it had what was probably a queen, though this one was also raised.

Cas put the bottle of lube on a nightstand near the bed, and Billy followed suit, pulling out the condoms that were peeking over the edge of his pocket and throwing them down.

He looked at Cas for a moment, suddenly bashful.  “So...this is my room now. It's a little more private since it’s down the –“

Cas slammed him against the wall and shoved his tongue down his throat, effectively shutting him up.

The next few minutes were a blur of frantic activity, tongues moving and clothes flying, until Billy was at his knees in front of Cas, whose coat and suit jacket had been thrown to the ground, and whose shirt hung open. Billy worked to open his belt, licking and nipping at his abs all the while.

“God, Cas, I want you so much, I’ve been waiting for this…” Cas let himself tune out the sound of Billy’s voice, aware it was rude, but needing to hold on the illusion so his craving could be satisfied. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall behind him, letting himself imagine.

He heard the snap of his belt being removed just as he began to make out another sound. Feet on stairs, and voices, that voice, _that_ voice, oh God…

Every bit of his consciousness was narrowed down into one thought: _DeanDeanDeanDeanDeanDean._

The voices got louder, they were still down the hall, but he could hear him so clearly. Listening to that voice, was just too much. Just as the man in front of him – what was his name again? Cas honestly couldn’t remember anymore – the man popped the clasp on his slacks and unzipped him, bringing his lips down to mouth around the boxers that still covered his throbbing cock.

There was a loud yelp and then a prolonged groan, which Cas vaguely realized was his own voice.

And then there was the sound of footsteps, running across the hall, the door opening, and…

Oh shit.

In a series of moments so fast that even Cas’s angelic senses could barely keep up,  Dean flung open the door, stormed into the room, fisted his hand in Billy’s shirt, and pulled him up to his knees.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Dean –“ Cas tried to explain, though he was so overcome with lust at the sight of Dean he could barely speak. It didn’t matter. Dean would not have heard a word he said.

“When the fuck will you get a clue? He is not interested in you, you fucking predator.”

Billy, who’d not even had the benefit of hearing footsteps and voices that were too quiet for human ears, had been startled into silence by Dean’s arrival. But now he just looked at Dean and laughed.

“What, you think this is funny?” Dean continued to clutch Billy by the shirt with one hand, but drew the other back, preparing to throw a punch.

Cas forced himself to pay attention long enough to stop him. As soon as he grabbed Dean’s hand, though, he was lost again. “Dean!” He’d meant to say his name, but he didn’t mean to moan it. He tried to get a hold of himself.  He struggled to find words. “Leave him alone. He was not attacking me.”

Dean looked at him and then back at Billy. Then back at him and then back at Bill again, as if trying to figure something out that simply didn’t compute.

Billy took the opportunity to speak up. “Dean, he is an angel. How on earth could I attack him?”

Dean paused for a minute, and then said, a bit defensively, “Well, maybe not attacked. But, took advantage. Took him by surprise –“

“Dean, for God’s sake, look at him, does he look surprised?,” Billy gestured toward Cas.

Dean turned took a long look at Castiel. Cas did not need a mirror to know what he must have looked like. Debauched. Lips glistening, cheeks flushed, shirt open, panting. He followed Dean’s eyes as they trailed down his body, down to the pants that were undone, all the way to the raging hard-on that had not subsided in the least – if anything, had grown even thicker and harder under Dean’s watch. Dean quickly averted his eyes, looking up at Cas’s face, and finally appearing to accept the truth of the situation.

 He let go of Billy’s shirt, and, at the sound of someone’s throat clearing, turned toward the door.

Until this point, Cas had not even realized that the other man Dean had been speaking with had apparently followed him in. He stood in the doorway, halfway in, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“So, Dean, we’ll catch up –“

“Yeah, Stewart, uh…let’s catch up later.”

“Okay then.” And with that, Stewart spun around and walked away about as quickly as one could without running.

This left the three of them. Perhaps Billy saw the way Cas was looking at Dean, like he just wanted to tear him apart in every way. Perhaps he was just tired of the drama. Either way, he decided he’d had enough.

He addressed Dean first. “You want to fuck him. Go ahead. Be my guest. God knows he’s dying for it." Dean balked at this, but Billy just continued. "Just do me a favor and fucking do it already. Because if you don’t, I will.”

He then turned and put his full attention on Cas, his threat turning to a promise. “You know I will.” Unlike Stewart, he made his way to the door slowly, perhaps half hoping that Cas would stop him. Billy sighed as he reached the doorway. He looked back once more at them. “Seriously, I do hope you guys figure this shit out.” Then he walked out, closing the door behind him.

Dean continued to stare at the place where Billy had been standing. And then he shifted his eyes a little. Cas followed his line of vision to the nightstand, littered with lube and condoms. The sound Dean made when he saw it was clearly involuntary, a strange amalgam of a laugh, scoff, and whimper.

He turned toward Cas, and Cas could see him trying to collect himself, to bury whatever it was this scene really inspired in him, and act nonchalant.

“Hey Cas, sorry there man, didn't mean to cock block ya. I just didn’t…” he faltered, “I didn’t know you wanted…that…uh…him. So I guess I’ll just…uh…get go -”

Cas couldn’t take it anymore. Even without Famine’s effect, he probably wouldn’t have been able to take it. Dean standing there, still a little angry there but trying to hide it, just like he was trying to hide the way his eyes kept reverting back to Cas’s lips, chest, and crotch.

He couldn’t take it anymore, seeing Dean like this, and not having him, so he did the first thing that came to mind. He pushed him. “You shouldn’t have come here, Dean.”

“What the hell, Cas?” Now Dean let his anger out. “Look, I said I was sorry. I heard you yelling and then came in and saw - how the fuck was I supposed to know you wanted that guy?”

Cas pushed him again. “I didn’t want him.”

Now Dean sneered, while trying to push back, though Cas was unmoveable. “Really?” he gestured toward the nightstand, and raised his voice in unmistakable anger shouting, “You could have fooled me! Because it sure as hell looks like you wanted –“

Cas gave him one final push and he fell backward onto the raised bed. Dean’s anger immediately transformed into bewilderment, and he looked at Cas, mouth agape. His eyes widened as Cas crawled on top of him, straddling his chest.

When he spoke again, his voice was small. “Cas? What - what are you doing?”

Cas leaned down and took a deep breath, inhaling Dean’s scent and wanting more than anything to taste him.

He wasn’t going to deprive himself any longer.

“Like I said,” he licked a stripe along Dean’s neck, “you shouldn’t have come here.”


	8. Chapter 8

_Then_

Salty. Sweaty. Leathery. Spicy. Wet. Perfect.

Perfect…yes, that was the only way to describe it. In that moment, there was nothing but the taste of Dean, and Castiel thought maybe he wouldn’t ever want anything else again.

Even the burning need that had taken him over seemed to dissipate, if only for a moment. Cas wiggled his tongue against Dean’s neck as the want returned. He just needed to taste more. 

And then there was a sound. Laughter? Giggling. Dean didn’t usually giggle, but he’s caught him before. And movement. Yes, Dean was squirming underneath him, and didn’t that feel wonderful?

“Cas? Cas! That tickles….what, what are you doing?”

Castiel leaned over and whispered into Dean’s ear, “Don’t ask stupid questions.” He noticed that just the act of whispering, of letting hot breath onto Dean’s ear, seemed to cause a reaction. He took note and promised himself he would revisit that area before reluctantly raising his head and opening his eyes. 

He shouldn’t have been so reluctant, though. It was a beautiful sight. Dean spread out beneath him, deliciously sweaty. There were still traces of a smile from his ticklish moment, and creases in his brow, his earlier anger still lingering. It all added up to confusion.

“Cas, man, what’s gotten into you?”

There were so many answers to that question. Famine, obviously. Into him, into Sam, and yet, that wasn’t really the answer. Because Dean had gotten into him, had penetrated him to the very core.

Well, if only…

So that was his answer. Not what had gotten into him, but what hadn’t. Namely, Dean.

“Nothing yet, that’s the problem,” Cas finally replied. In case there was any question as to what he meant, he rolled his hips, thrusting forward slightly and bringing attention (as if that were necessary), to the thick bulge in his boxers, clearly visible through his unzipped pants.

Dean’s breath hitched. He still had traces of anger in his face, but there was unmistakeable lust in his expression as well, in his enlarged pupils and the way his breathing had sped up just a bit.

Cas shuffled his body down so that their hips were aligned, and rolled again, this time pressing his ass firmly into Dean’s cock. Dean’s hardening cock. Oh God, yes.

Another surge of adrenaline pumped through his vessel at the realization and he leaned over again, this time breathing heavily into Dean’s ear, and then taking the lobe into his mouth and nibbling ever so slightly. He felt every minute response in Dean’s body, including those that would likely be undetectable were he not an angel.

And those that were perfectly obvious, like Dean’s sudden involuntary moan.

It was wonderful, the way these senses moved in concert. He could smell and taste Dean, and then Dean would make these luscious noises and he could hear him too. It was one thing to imagine it or hear it through a wall, and another thing entirely to be right in the middle of it.

He wanted to see how many different noises he could pull out of Dean, but Dean appeared to have other plans. He pushed uselessly against Cas.

“Cas, we need - need to stop.” Cas thought he may have enjoyed the struggle, if he didn’t have so many other things he’d rather be doing at the moment.

Dean was clearly fighting himself every bit as much as he was fighting Cas. His physical reactions – the racing heart, even the erection – that could all feasibly be signs of fear rather than arousal. But the moan, and the way that Dean seemed to be at war with himself, this was evidence at last. It wasn’t in Cas’s head. Dean wanted him, too.

He was aware of this, of the way that Dean seemed to be pushing and pulling and grabbing at the same time, of the uncertainty in his voice, more than he was of the words Dean was saying. But those words did eventually register, and somehow even through the fog of Famine and the mind-melting sensation of having Dean underneath him, moaning and writhing and hard, he knew he couldn’t just ignore those words.

Stop. Dean had said he should stop. Well, actually he said “we” which was more promising, and made it less likely that he was assaulting Dean. Still, a chill went through him as he realized how close he was to enacting the very scenario he’d wanted to avoid. He didn’t want to hurt Dean, that was the whole reason he’d gone after Billy in the first place. Yet somehow they ended up here.

He hadn’t spared the poor guy a thought since he left, if not before. But now, thinking of him brought back a memory of that night in the library, his back against the wall of books, and how it had ended. Billy gave him an out, and now needed to force himself to do the same for Dean.

Cas leaned down, loosening his grip on Dean. While he couldn’t bring himself to get up – he was straddling Dean Winchester, for God’s sake, he wasn’t about to stop unless he absolutely had to – he forced his vessel into a near-human state of strength so that Dean could toss him off if he wanted to.  

He just wished beyond all reason that Dean didn’t really want to stop. And he knew now, deep down somewhere, Dean didn’t. But he needed to say it.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” Cas whispered, grazing Dean’s cheek and nipping at his lower lip. Not quite a kiss, just another taste. If this was going to end soon, he wanted just a little bit more to work with when he returned to pining and fantasizing.

On that note, he rolled his hips, and Dean’s reaction was even better than a moan this time. He stretched and opened his mouth, his eyes briefly shutting, and his body quivering. But he didn’t make a sound. It was so clear that he was suppressing it, that he was fighting and perhaps losing in a battle against his own body.

“Tell me to stop,” Cas said, licking Dean’s ear and savoring the forcefully muted reaction once again, before breathing into it, “and I’ll stop.”

He left his mouth lingering just a millimeter away from Dean’s ear, and they stayed there, perfectly still except for their heavy breaths and beating hearts, for what seemed an eternity and a split second at the same time.

Finally, Dean spoke. They were not words that Cas wanted to hear.

“Get off me. Now.”

Dean sounded angry, dangerous, even. Cas wasn’t afraid, but he was paralyzed for a moment. There was a fucked up part of him that told him that he didn’t actually have to, that he was an angel and so much stronger than Dean that he wouldn’t stand a chance. But even under the thrall of Famine, he couldn’t do such a thing.

Still, it was pretty devastating.

He lifted himself off of Dean, had barely dismounted when Dean shoved him the rest of the way.

Cas stayed on the bed, kneeling, as Dean got off the bed and stood up behind him. There was no sound of the door closing, but Cas knew that, he could sense Dean’s presence there behind him. Perhaps Dean wanted some kind of confrontation, now, seeing as how Cas had just pinned him down and licked him, apparently against his will.  Cas stayed facing the wall. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Dean, not now. Instead, he looked down and silently cursed his still throbbing dick.

There was an avalanche of negative emotion, and yet here he was, rock hard. There was crushing disappointment, and a creeping sense of panic as he thought about how angry Dean sounded. He may have lost him forever, he may have truly just destroyed the only real relationship he’d ever had. And still, the lust would not die.

Cas closed his eyes and began to breathe, trying to quell all of it, the lust, the fear, all of these horrible human feelings that had somehow taken ahold of him.

And then, as the blood stopped pounding in his ears, he heard a small sound. Metal clanking against metal.

A zipper.

And then more. Rustling sounds and…holy shit. It was not like Cas to blaspheme internally, but this was…was this really what he thought it was?

Yes, it was. His full angel senses returned, and even with his back turned, his mind filled in the images to go with each sound, Dean rapidly dragging down his pants, then his boxers.

And then he didn’t need angel senses, because he could very easily feel what was happening. Dean grabbed his neck with one hand and shoved his head forward, forcing Cas back into a kneeling position not unlike the one he’d had previously while atop Dean. With the other hand, he grabbed the waist of Cas’s unzipped pants and boxers, and shoved them both roughly down.

The material caught on Cas’s dick on the way down and there was a slight pinch, but he could not possibly give a fuck, because that was Dean’s own leaking cock rubbing up against the cleft of his ass.

“Is this what you want?” Dean sneered. He still sounded angry; the question was more of an accusation, but Cas could do nothing but admit his guilt.

“Yes, yes….please…Dean…please…” Cas panted. Dean let go of his neck and moved back. Cas heard the rustling of a wrapper, and then the slick slide of a condom covering Dean’s cock. He thought vaguely that the condom was unnecessary, but he wasn’t going to delay this any further. Dean squirted lube into his hand and spread it around the rim of Cas’s ass.

“If this is what you want,” Dean said, while rubbing a finger lightly around his rim, “you better open up and let me in. Because I know you can, angel, and I don’t intend to be gentle.” He punctuated this by jabbing his finger directly into Cas’s asshole.

He removed his finger and then grabbed Cas by the hips, dragging him up so that he stood, knees only slightly bent against the raised bed, still bent over with his face hovering over the mattress.

Dean lined himself and worked the tip of his cock into Cas’s ass, then stopped. All Cas could think was _more more more more,_ and so he did as Dean said, relaxing his muscles just enough that it would be a snug fit, and slammed back until Dean was fully inside him.

“Oh fuck!” Dean shouted. He pushed Cas down so that his face was buried in the bedspread. Cas could tell he was trying to hold him still, but he couldn’t help rocking back slightly on Dean’s cock. He had thought about this so many times, and now it was finally happening, and he felt that he would burst into a thousand pieces if Dean didn't move.

He felt Dean’s hand behind him, gripping the base of his cock, and heard Dean trying to breathe steadily. Finally, he began thrusting into Cas. Despite his warnings that he wouldn’t be gentle, he moved slowly at first. Cas could feel every inch sliding in, and he let out a long moan.

Dean answered with his own. “Fuck, Cas, I knew you would feel good, but I didn’t think it would be this…fuck, you’re perfect.” He bent over so that his body was draped over the angel, and kissed him on the shoulder. It was surprisingly tender.

Perhaps catching himself in the act, he stood up straight again, resting one hand on Cas’s back to hold him in place, and then began brutally fucking him.

It felt so good there were tears in Cas’s eyes. It joined the other liquids that were pouring out of him, the precome leaking out of his cock onto the poor abused mattress, and the drool that was literally dripping from his open mouth, which was stuffed with blanket to keep himself from screaming.

Dean grabbed him by the hair and raised his head up, forcing him to let go of his makeshift muzzle and the sound that came out of his mouth was nearly inhuman. “That’s right,” Dean said, “I want to hear you. You’ve thought about this too, haven’t you?”

Cas could barely form words, as Dean was still forcing grunts out of him with each punishing thrust. But he forced himself to, squeezing words out when he could. “Yes, Dean…thought about…fuck!...thought about it all the time…oh God, yes, please….wanted you inside me….fuck Dean, you feel so good.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean’s voice turned dark. “Did you make yourself come thinking about me?”

“No…Dean…no, I mean…I never…ungh…came…I – I wanted you…wanted to come….fuck…with you inside me…”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see…,” Dean began losing his powers of speech as well, “if we can…make that happen.” His voiced turned dark and angry again and his speech quickened, even as his thrusts became harder and faster, “What about when you let that guy fuck you? Did he make you come on his cock?”

“No…Dean…I never…we never….”

 Dean used the hand that was still twisted in Cas’s hair to turn his head to the side so that he faced the night table, which was still littered with condoms. “Well you were about to let him fuck you, weren’t you?”

Cas was at a loss, both because he truly didn’t know what to say, and because he felt the early warning signs of an impending orgasm coming. Those signs that he’d come to recognize and had so many times suppressed, but would now let wash over him. What he said to Dean was true. He didn’t realize that this was what he’d been waiting for, but it was.

“Nothing to say to that, huh?” Dean’s fist in his hair tightened, and he began thrusting so hard that the bed moved. It was a sturdy wooden bed too, so that was no small feat.

Cas wracked his badly compromised brain for something to say. “I didn’t….I wanted…you, Dean…only you….always you…”

“That’s right!” Dean said. Cas would have let out a breath of relief, if he had any breath left. As it was he was now just a pile of moans, whines, grunts, and whimpers. Dean grabbed Cas’s ass cheek, “This is mine. I don’t care how many girls you fuck, but you don’t let any guy touch you. Understand?”

“Yes!” Cas shouted, though honestly he didn’t understand. It didn’t seem to make any sense, but it was completely beside the point. He didn’t want anyone, or anything on this Earth or in heaven, that wasn’t Dean. He couldn’t quite verbalize all that, so he just began saying a single word over and over again, a moaning chant of “Yours…yours…yours…..yours.”

His body folded in on itself until it became a single point, and at the same time, filled up the whole universe. And then he felt wetness on his stomach and realized that he was coming. Hard.

“Fuck, Cas! I can feel you….oh God, that’s so fucking hot…”

Cas was still coming, and he could feel it, he was floating, in a million places but also right there, feeling Dean’s length push into him over and over, spurting at every thrust.

“Fuck, you must’ve been….saving up…” somehow Dean still had the power to make quips, even though Cas felt the telltale signs of Dean’s impending orgasm. It was pretty remarkable, but Cas didn’t really have the power to do anything at this point but crush his face into the mattress and just take it. Dean held his hips steady and thrust into him wildly.

He came with a long groan, and Cas relished the feeling of the condom swelling inside of him, and the feel of Dean’s trembling body collapsing on top of his.

It was the last thing he felt before he, for the first time in millennia of existence, fell deeply asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

_Now_

So maybe they were both dicks.

You share 100% of your genes and 80% of your life experiences, and you’re bound to have some things in common. So yeah, even if Dean did call the other Dean “Dick” in his head, he knew he was one, too.

They never came to an agreement over the name issue, and eventually, it escalated. There were a lot of factors that led to the separation of the Deans, but the name thing ended up being the last straw.

For a while, they avoided the topic. It was a little confusing, but mostly, the others just avoided using proper names altogether when referring to them directly, relying instead on hand motions and “You” if they were both in the same place at the same time. When Sam or Cas or Castiel talked to him about Dick they usually just said “Dean" or "other Dean." Although it grated on him, he accepted it. Cas still occasionally referred to him as “our fearless leader,” though it was with a tinge of something Dean couldn’t quite place.  

At one point, Dean suggested calling the other one “Dean14,” because that was how he had sort of referred to him in his head right after his initial visit to 2014. That didn’t really make sense anymore, but at least it had “Dean” in the name.

Sam seemed to be okay with it, and the others agreed it would do. They thought maybe the other Dean'd go for it since it was a variation on “Dean” rather than a nickname. But he didn’t. He really should have.

When he rejected all suggested alternate names, Dean just started calling him “Herman,” and then it kinda stuck. Sam and Cas thought it was hilarious and immediately adopted it. Castiel was the only one who attempted to resist, but the others used it so frequently that even he would sometimes slip.

“Herman” was not pleased.

Every time Dean said it, and he made sure to say it as much as possible, he could see Dick’s shoulders tense up. Which made him smirk. And then Dick would see that, and knowing what his facial expression meant (hell, he had the same face), just made him tense even more, making Dean’s smirk that much more pronounced, and so on.

Dean knew it would have driven him crazy if someone called him by that name. So of course, he knew that it drove Dick crazy. Maybe part of him wanted to start a fight. Usually, Dick didn’t take the bait. His hand would curl into a fist and he’d look at Dean like he wanted to shove his head through a wall, but he’d just walk away. One day, he just reached his breaking point.

“You call me that one more time, and I swear–“

“What? What are you gonna do?”

“So help me God, I don’t even care if you are me, I will rip you apart.”

That got under Dean’s skin. They weren’t the same. They couldn’t be more different. He’d done a lot of horrible shit, but this asshole sent his friends – sent Cas - out to die. And he hadn't so much as apologized about it since he came back. Just the thought of it...

"You sure you wanna do that? Don’t want to get your hands dirty. Maybe you’d be better of just luring me somewhere and letting someone else take care of it.”

“That’s it, that is the last fucking –“

Dick started to rush him but didn't get very far. Sam had heard the beginning of the argument and he knew what was coming. He knew his brother well, and now that there were two of them, he could practically predict the moment of their inevitable combustion.

He was between them before either of them knew he was in the room. Sammy could be pretty quick when he wanted to be, for a friggin’ giant. Now he was using every bit of his bulk to keep the Deans away from each other, one hand on each chest, pushing them in opposite directions.

“That’s enough! Both of you.” Sam stood there until the two of them stopped pushing and Dean took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. He took a step back, and Sam let his hands down.

Sam turned to Dick. "Would you mind leaving us for a bit?" Dick had fire in his eyes, but he walked out of the room without another word. Dean started to smirk again but his glee was cut short. “Dean, I think you should leave.”

“What the hell? Sammy, this is my house –“

“Dean, this place belongs to all of us, but obviously we can’t all be here at the same time. I’m not saying you should leave permanently, but maybe just take some time while we figure things out.”

“Why should I leave? Where the hell am I supposed to go?” Dean knew he sounded like a petulant child, and he hated it. But still, it sure as hell wasn’t fair. Why should he leave his comfortable bed and his room and his home, while this asshole -

“Alamogordo.”

“Huh?”

“Alamogordo.”

“What the fuck is an alamogordo?”

“It's a city. In New Mexico. Where someone is going to die in 3 days.”

Well, that got his attention.

“I almost didn’t see it. They weren’t anywhere near each other, so it wasn’t like anyone could easily spot the pattern. But once I saw it…here, I’ll just show you.”

Sam brought him to a bulletin board and pointed to a map of the U.S.,which he'd marked at 5 points with white pins.

“Five deaths in 20 days. All in different cities. All with their throats slit.”

Dean looked at the map. It sounded more like a coincidence than a pattern. People got their throats slit all the time. He might think Sam was just trying to distract him, but now that he was looking at it, he could see it, too. It was perfectly symmetrical.

“It’s an upside down…” What was the word again? “Pentagon?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes. Because we have some bloodthirsty elementary school students who just learned basic geometry.”

“Okay, if you’re gonna be a bitch about it –“

“C’mon Dean. What else could it be? A penta….”

Oh. Okay, maybe he was a little slow. “A pentagram.” Or a pentacle, if it had a circle around it, but it didn’t seem to.

“Exactly.”

“But pentagrams are protective against evil. Not exactly in line with slitting people’s throats. What makes you so sure that’s what it is?”

Sam picked up a pencil, and tapped the pin at the very bottom. “Because the first death was here.”

“And?”

Sam dragged the pencil from the bottom point diagonally, stopping when he reached the pin on the top left side. “And the next death was here.” He dragged the pencil diagonally again, until he reached the pin on the bottom right. “And the third was here.”

“Sonofabitch.”

“See? It keeps going like that. And here’s the fifth one, it just happened yesterday.” Sam drew the third and fourth sides of the pentagram, ending at the top right pin. “Whoever it is may be finished. But I don’t think so.”

“You think he – or she, or it, or whatever – is gonna finish the symbol.”

“Don’t you?”

Dean looked at the drawing, the final piece of the 5-pointed star so glaringly missing, and he couldn’t help but agree.

“That would mean the last death would be –“

“Right where it all started.” Sam tapped the pin at the bottom with his pencil again, and Dean looked more closely at the location now.

“Alamogordo.”

“Alamogordo.”

“Looks like we’ve got a case.”

“Okay, but Dean –“

“What?” Somehow he could sense what Sam was about to say next.

“I’m not coming.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I think it’s best if I stay here with Her - uh, with the other Dean.”

Dean tensed at hearing Sam call that assmunch by his name. “Fine, you and Herman stay here and become best buds.” Dean knew he sounded like he was pouting again, but…oh fuck it. He steeled himself and looked at Sam.

“You do whatever you need to do. I’ll handle Alamogordo by myself.”

He started to head for his room to get his duffel when Sam stopped him once more.

“Dean –“

“Oh what now?” For the love of God. Couldn’t Sam just let him walk off in stoic and manly peace. Were they going to have a talk about this on top of everything else?

“I think you should take Cas.”

Fuck. “What? Why?” Even as he said it, he knew he’d do it. Because now that he thought about it, he didn’t want Cas stuck here with no one but Sam and that douchebag.  When Sam didn’t respond right away, he just let out an exasperated sigh and relented without further argument. “Fine. I’ll take Cas.”

“Great.” Sam actually smiled, and it would have probably made Dean smile to see it if he wasn’t so damn annoyed.

“But he better not smoke anything in my car.”

“Oh c’mon, Dean.”

“Seriously. I don’t know how the hell he’s managed to find a hookup when he doesn’t even know anyone in Lebanon, but his room has smelled like weed since the second day he got here. And I’m pretty sure that’s not all he’s doing.”

Dean thought back to the last time he’d seen the fallen angel, sitting on the sofa and staring at Sam’s laptop with what seemed to be perfect concentration. Dean thought maybe he’d found something interesting and was about to ask what it was when he saw the screen.

There was nothing on the computer. Just Sam’s starry desktop background. He stood and watched Cas watch nothing with rapt attention for several minutes. When he finally coughed, alerting Cas to his presence, Cas looked up slowly, and Dean saw his dilated pupils, two large black discs edging out the startling blue. “Stars,” he whispered, “Dean, you have no idea. There are so many of them.” And then he went back to staring at the screen, as fascinated as ever. “So many.”

Dean shuddered a little at the memory. “I’m just saying, if he’s gonna join me on this road trip, he better put the hippie bullshit on hold for a couple days.”

“Aww, are you talking about me?”

Of course. Of course Cas would walk in right at that moment.

“Now, what’s this about a road trip?”


	10. Chapter 10

_Then_

The second time Cas fell asleep, he woke up with Dean lying beside him.   

The first time, he woke up alone, and it was days before he saw Dean again. Bobby had broken it to him that his brother was detoxing from demon blood. Dean disappeared after that.

It made sense. Cas told himself that. It wasn’t about him. Bobby didn’t say anything about any of it. It looked like this was going to be another one of those unspoken occurrences. His heart fell at the thought.

Among the many sources of anxiety that plagued Cas while Dean was gone, was the fear that once Dean realized that he had also been under the effects of Famine, he would think that was the only reason Cas had acted the way he did. He wanted to find Dean and tell him that Famine didn’t work that way. His desire wasn’t artificial, even if its manifestation was uncontrolled due to Famine’s effects.

The way it had all happened was far from perfect, though Cas couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Dean would probably beat himself up for supposedly taking advantage of Castiel. Or maybe resent Cas for teaming up with his brother and then having sex with him without telling him what had happened. Or, just pretend it didn’t happen. That seemed like the most likely outcome.

Sure enough, when Dean returned a couple of days later, it was business as usual.

It could have been worse. He didn’t go out of his way to avoid Cas and he didn’t seem angry. But he didn’t say anything, and he seemed more interested in pursuing solo missions away from the compound.

Cas typically didn’t interfere when Dean wanted to go off by himself. But when they found out about a town in Minnesota that had gone gun-crazy in the name of a false prophet, Cas realized who it must be. There was no way he’d let Dean face that himself.

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I can handle a whore, Cas.”

“She’s not a whore. She’s The Whore. The Whore of Babylon. She has powers beyond almost anything you’ve faced before. And it sounds as if she’s amassed a legion of followers who will do anything she demands. You cannot go alone.”

“Fine. I’ll bring Miguel. And maybe Risa.”

Risa was a relatively new addition to the compound, but it’d quickly become apparent that she was a remarkable hunter. She seemed to be half in-love with Dean, but Cas could hardly blame her for that.

“That is a sound idea. But I must accompany you. And we must also bring a person of faith. Only a true servant of heaven can defeat the Whore.”

“Servant of heaven? Isn’t that you?” 

Cas couldn’t help a huff of laughter. “That was me. Now I'm a rebel. Fallen. I don’t know whether what I’m doing is the will of God, but I am certainly no servant of Heaven.”

“Yeah, well, thank God for that.”

“As I said, I don’t know the will of God –“

“It’s an expression, Cas. So, let’s go kill a whore.”

“Again, Dean, she’s not a who-“

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time. Enough yapping and let’s get going.”

It took them a little while to assemble the right group to head over. They had two contenders for servant of God. The first was a young seminarian named Louis who’d recently joined the hunter’s camp after his fellow seminarians were slaughtered by demons. They weren’t sure if he was a true servant of Heaven, but he was probably their best shot. His faith hadn’t wavered since the incident, and he saw the existence of the camp as a sign of God’s continued presence. He was convinced they were doing God’s will, and was thrilled to meet Castiel. Dean and Cas hadn’t gotten around to telling him that angels were mostly assholes.

The second was a badass 72-year-old woman named Helen, who knew all about what the angels were like, and still got up every day at 6am to say her morning prayers.

Helen and Louis were training to be hunters along with everyone else, but they weren’t exactly prime fighters. So Dean and Cas brought a few extra people to join the fight and act as bodyguards. As expected, Miguel and Risa joined. Ellen insisted on joining as well, which was less expected but not unwelcome. She insisted that Jo and Bobby stay and help guard the others while their best fighters were out. Cas wasn’t exactly sure why she was so keen to go, but he knew Ellen had become quite fond of Helen, and that seemed like a good enough reason.

In truth, they probably could have used the help of Jo and Bobby, and anyone else who could have joined. The scene in Minnesota was chaotic. Cas went ahead while Ellen and Dean drove the others the couple of hours from South Dakota. It was reminiscent of Salem, complete with people burning at the stake.

He tracked down David Gideon, a former pastor whose daughter had been killed so that the Whore could take her place. 

“We didn’t know at first. I thought it was a gift from God. We all did. She said she talked to angels, and she told us things – things she couldn’t have known. In the beginning, it was always helpful. She helped us destroy demons. And then…”

“She set you toward destroying each other.”

“Yes. I don’t know what happened. All I know is that is not my daughter.”   
Cas told him he was right, but almost wished he hadn’t when the pastor spoke next.

“Do you know where my daughter is?”

He paused. He could have lied, and said he didn’t know. But he felt this man deserved the truth. “Your daughter is dead. She probably has been for months.”

David was silent for a while. Tears welled in his eyes and he sat down.

“I thought so.”

Another few moments of silence passed before David spoke again. “But…do you know where she is?”

It was a fair question. “I cannot know for certain. But I would say that, most likely, she is in heaven.”

David looked up at the angel. He seemed relieved. “So there is a heaven?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been there?”

“Yes.”   
“What is it like?”

“She is living through her happiest memories.”

He gave a half-smile. “So we will all be reunited in Paradise after all?”

“Well, no.”

David’s brow furrowed. “Can’t say I was expecting that.”

Cas wasn’t sure what to say. “Um. I apologize.”

“Honestly, I thought you were just telling me what I wanted to hear. That everyone would be on white fluffy clouds and we’d all be together and live in pure peace and happiness for all eternity.”

“There are no fluffy clouds. Though I suppose if your fondest memories included fluffy clouds, they would make an appearance.”

Now the pastor guffawed, even as he wiped the tears that had spilled onto his cheeks.

“I want to see her again. Not just in a memory, I want to really see her. But…knowing that she’s at peace…that she’s still somewhere, and she’s happy….and not stuck in that thing that stole her body…” He looked Cas in the eye and smiled genuinely, “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.”

He hadn’t been expecting the pastor to take the news of his daughter’s death so well. Perhaps he underestimated people. Some, like this pastor, were so very resilient, even in the face of the worst pain.

In the end, it was the pastor who took the dagger made of Babylonian cypress and shoved it into the heart of the Whore who killed his daughter.

It was a close call. Louis was overwhelmed with despair at everything he saw. He’d seen pure evil before, demons killing innocents, but this was something entirely different. These were people, people of faith, people who’d once had the best of intentions most likely, who’d been warped in the name of religion, and turned against each other. He wanted to save all of them, and it nearly got him killed.

Cas tried to protect him, but as soon as he heard the Enochian words coming out of the Whore's mouth, he knew he would be rendered useless. He crumpled to the ground. The pain was close to unbearable. Through flashes of white hot searing his vision, he saw the final confrontation. David's face was wrenched in grief, but yes, he was strong. And even after everything that had happened, he was still apparently a true servant of God.

Things got blurry after that. He remembered being held up by Dean. There was a flash of them standing outside, but he doesn't remember walking. There were snippets of visuals and conversation.

David, talking about him, saying "Angel or not, looks like he could use some rest. We have some rooms..."

Ellen, with car keys in her hand, saying, "Don't worry about the rest of them, Dean, I'll make sure they get home."

And then darkness.

His eyes were still closed when he regained consciousness. He felt first, blindly, and his hand touched familiar skin.

Cas opened his eyes and didn't have to wait for them to adjust to the darkness. His gaze immediately latched at the figure in front of him. Sandy brown hair, rippling muscles, boxer shorts, and steady breathing. Dean was asleep, curled on his side away from him. But in the same bed.

He wondered if he was dreaming. He’d been in other’s dreams, and though this didn’t feel like one of them, that could be because they were not his dreams. He knew humans could be tricked into thinking their dreams were reality, so maybe the same was true for him. It seemed like he was becoming more human all the time.

And then he remembered falling asleep, or passing out. The blur of activity from his flashes of memories created something of a narrative. Ellen and the others had left. He and Dean had stayed behind, presumably so Cas could sleep. Perhaps Dean stayed in his room because there was only one bed, or because he was concerned and wanted to keep an eye on Cas.

If he was worried about Cas, it would make sense for him to stay in the same room, though he could have left Cas fully clothed on top of the covers. Instead, he’d stripped him down to his boxers, and then stripped himself as well and crawled into bed with him.

He wondered when he’d ever stop being surprised by Dean Winchester.

Maybe it really was a dream. That made more sense than anything. But if it were a dream, he should have been pressed against Dean, not lying inches away from him, the same yearning he always felt amplified now that he was actually in reach.

What was the human protocol in this situation? What exactly was this situation?

“Dean,” he whispered. He didn’t want to wake him unnecessarily, but he wanted so badly to touch him.

Granted, it was warm, so that perhaps explained the lack of clothing. Beads of sweat glistened on Dean’s back, and he was overcome with the urge to lick them off one by one. 

He thought about entering Dean’s dreams, but then he didn’t want to leave this reality. This reality, which was a bit like torture, but which held the possibility of touching Dean again.

Maybe he could just do that. Just touch him, gently, in a non-sexual way. Or as non-sexual as he could make it, given that his mind would most likely be veering off into very unwholesome territory.

Still, Dean had gotten into bed with him barely clothed. Surely, he wouldn’t do that if he weren’t at least somewhat comfortable with the idea of being close to him.

Cas tentatively reached out his left hand toward Dean, his heart beating wildly the whole time. He rested his palm against Dean’s warm naked back, and breathed a sigh of relief at the contact.

Dean didn’t stir.

With infinitesimally small movements, he slowly shifted closer to Dean, until he was directly behind him, his chest nearly against Dean’s back and his hand on Dean’s arm. His hand drifted down until his fingers lightly brushed Dean’s pectoral muscles.

He would have been content to lay there all night, barely touching Dean. Well, not perfectly content, but it felt so good just to be close to Dean. In a way, this was even closer than when they’d had sex, almost more intimate. Or it would be if Dean was awake.

But Dean was not awake. So when he felt Dean reach up and grab Cas’s hand, pulling it down and around himself, and dragging Cas in the process until they were fully pressed against each other, front to back, he was not quite sure what to make of it. It seemed too intimate, almost an intrusion, but maybe it was Dean unconsciously reaching out for something he wouldn’t consciously let himself have.

In any case, his grip was tight, and Cas wasn’t so bothered about the ethics of the situation that he was going to pass up the opportunity to spend hours like this, curled up against Dean, wrapped tightly around him with the closest thing to permission that he could feasibly get in the current situation.

When Dean shifted in his sleep, knocking Cas’s hand down until it was hovering just above his cock, the ethical dilemma was a little bit more stark. Especially because he could feel the heat from Dean’s body, and could tell that Dean had an erection. He knew that men often became erect while in REM sleep, but it still made his own cock even harder.

He brought his arm, which was now resting on Dean’s hip, slowly upward until his hand was splayed across Dean’s abdomen. They were so, so close now. He was pressed up against Dean, his mouth against Dean’s ear, and it reminded him of how Dean responded when Cas had straddled him on the bed and breathed into his ear.

He wondered if the feeling of hot breath in this sensitive area had worked its way into Dean’s dreams.

Only…

Dean’s breathing had changed. His heart rate as well. They were so close that Cas probably would have been able to tell even without his angel senses, but with them, it was unmistakable.

Dean was awake. And he was still in his arms.

His own breath quickened as the realization took hold, a bit of panic mixed with a lot of arousal. His hard cock was pressed against Dean’s ass, and there was no way that Dean was not acutely aware of that fact.

Cas really didn’t know how Dean was going to react, how he was responding. Dean’s heart rate was fast, but that could mean any number of things. He started to lift his hand from Dean’s abdomen.

And was stopped dead in his tracks.

Dean took Cas’s hand, deliberately this time, and reversed part of the trail it had just taken, leaving it draped over his lower abdomen. His fingers brushed the waistline of Dean’s boxers, and it sent a shiver through them both.

“Dean?” Cas whispered. He didn’t know why he was whispering. They were the only two in the room and he knew for a fact that Dean was awake. But somehow in the darkness, it all felt a bit unreal, and he was hesitant to do anything that would bring them crashing back to reality.

There was no response. “Dean?” Cas whispered again, just a little bit louder, just to be sure. Dean’s breathing was even heavier now, his heart pounding, but he didn’t say a word.

Almost as slowly as when Dean was asleep, Cas began to move. First he caressed the bare skin on Dean’s abdomen. He barely touched him, letting just his fingertips fan out and stroke him lightly. He then let his fingers wander, mapping Dean’s body with light touches and noting his reactions - when his breath quickened, when his muscles twitched, when his heart sped or slowed.

There was a part of him that felt as hungry as he did under Famine’s thrall, that wanted to shove himself against Dean and devour him in every way. But mostly, he was in a different kind of thrall, almost a trance. This meticulous exploration of Dean’s body, tracing his skin while tracking the tiny variations in his responses…it was mesmerizing.

At once, he felt beyond time and space, multidimensional, and yet more fully in his human body than ever before. It was a gorgeous paradox.

His fingers drifted down, past the hem of Dean’s boxers, and he began stroking the inside of his thigh. Both of their hearts sped wildly, and Dean began panting. And squirming.

That was what drove him over the edge. He grabbed Dean’s thigh to lock him in place, then closed his mouth around the curve of Dean’s neck, licking and sucking the salty sweat from his skin, and thrust forward, finally getting some much needed friction.

It was not a planned maneuver. If he’d been in his right mind, he would have been too hesitant to make such an aggressive move, too afraid that it would ruin the trance and scare Dean off.

Luckily, he was not in his right mind. Judging from the obscene moan Dean let out, he had not been scared off at all.

In a lightning quick motion, again without thinking about it or giving himself a chance to hesitate, Cas relieved Dean of his boxers and wrapped his fingers around Dean’s hard length.  He was rewarded with an even louder moan, and Dean thrusting forward, fucking into his hand.

He kept his grip light, as there was no lubrication other than a bit of sweat and he didn’t want to hurt Dean. The notion of procuring lube somewhere fleeted past his mind, but he didn’t want to be away from Dean for a microsecond, even if it was to pop mostly-naked into a local drugstore for supplies. He also wasn’t sure whether he would be able to do so, as he still felt somewhere between angel and human.

Or maybe he was becoming more animal than human. He growled as Dean thrust backward, felt Dean’s bare ass slide against his cock. With his left hand still lightly gripping Dean’s length, he moved back just enough to reach down with his other hand in between them, and tore his own boxers down far enough to free his cock from confinement. His arm was now pinned somewhat awkwardly under him, his right hand gripping his dick, which was leaking at the tip.

The feeling of skin against skin was amazing. He slid the tip of his cock against the crack of Dean’s ass.

Immediately, he felt Dean tense up. He could actually sense Dean’s asshole clenching. He had his first fully formed coherent thought in many minutes.

Dean was not ready for this. Of course he was not ready for this. He couldn’t even say it out loud, couldn’t even acknowledge any of this by the light of day. He was certainly not ready to have Cas inside him, even if his movements belied an unspoken craving.

He wanted to reassure Dean as quickly as possible, but still wasn’t sure if words were allowed. So he brought his right hand back up and began stroking Dean’s hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner. He lifted his left hand from Dean for a moment, long enough to adjust his own cock so that it rested between Dean’s legs, sliding it under and against his perineum and balls, making it very clear that he was not seeking entry.

Dean relaxed at that, which was a great relief. His left hand hovered above Dean’s naked body for just a second, before Dean reached out and guided it back to its previous position.

Once they’d apparently come to a nonverbal agreement about what would and would not be happening this evening, they lost any last vestiges of anxiety and threw themselves into hot, sweaty, grunting, moaning pleasure.

Dean gripped Cas’s cocks between his muscled thighs, so they both moved as Dean slid in and out of Cas’s closed fist.

Cas spread his thumb around the head of Dean’s cock, which was now dripping with precome, using the moisture as a lubricant. Dean closed his hand around Cas’s, forcing a tighter grip and quickening their pace.

Cas returned to his earlier attentions, licking the sweat from Dean’s neck. When he impulsively bit his earlobe, Dean came with a loud cry.

He felt the come spurt out, couldn’t really see it but visualized the entire scene from all angles. Still, he wished so much that he could actually see Dean’s face when he came. Some things could not be adequately imagined.

Dean slowed their pace and then stilled, leaving him at a bit of a loss as to what to do next. He was absurdly turned on, and kind of shocked that he hadn’t come already, all things considered. But Dean was done, and he didn’t know if that meant the spell was over. Would he leave him again, even though they were both awake?

Cas loosened his grip from Dean’s now softening cock. His own hard cock remained between Dean’s legs, though it had slipped somewhat since Dean was no longer clenching his thighs.

Dean shifted forward and Cas automatically pulled back, until they were not touching at all. He wondered if this was it. Were they to pretend that nothing happened now? He wasn’t sure if he could handle that.

He tried to remind himself to be grateful that this had happened at all. But it hurt, not just the lack of sexual release, but the fact that he couldn’t touch Dean, the thought that he’d have to go back to pretending that wasn’t what he wanted every minute of every day.

And then, Dean Winchester surprised him once again.

He turned around, until they were face to face in the dark. He looked so beautiful it almost brought tears to Cas’s eyes. His short hair was just a bit disheveled and slightly matted with sweat. His face, always so beautiful, was now softened with post-orgasmic calm along with a few threads of retained lust.

They just stared at each other for a minute, and Cas was pretty sure that his vessel had ceased breathing during this time. Dean’s eyes were locked onto his, before moving down in a sweep to take in the sight of Cas’s naked body, still flush with arousal. He unconsciously licked his lips when his eyes fell on Cas’s erection, and the sight of that and all the implications almost made him come right there.

But Dean’s eyes moved once again, finally settling on his lips. He felt Dean’s mouth on his own before he fully registered it, felt a transcendence that was different than anything he’d felt before, angel or human or whatever else he’d been.

He reached up and gripped the back of Dean’s head and pressed forward and was so wrapped up in the felling of Dean’s mouth and tongue and breath that he didn’t even realize that Dean’s hand had snaked down between them and closed around his cock until he was coming all over them both.

Dean pulled back from their kiss and locked eyes with him again, his hand still moving as he slowed Cas through the aftershocks.

There was nothing but endless green and unbounded pleasure.

When he came back to himself, the first thing he noticed was his left hand, which was still cupping the back of Dean’s head.

And still covered in strips of Dean’s come. Whoops.

He let go of Dean’s head a little too quickly, and it didn’t escape his notice.

“What…Oh…Eww…”

“Um…I don’t…I am so sorry, Dean….”

His temporary horror was relieved when he saw Dean’s mouth crook into a smirk.

“So, Cas…are you gonna use your angel mojo to clean us up here, or are we just gonna lay here covered in come all day?”

Was it the post-orgasmic bliss? The hilarious nonchalance of Dean’s delivery? Or just the fact that Dean was looking at him and speaking to him and _actually acknowledging that this was happening_? Whatever it was, it sent a surge of exhilaration through him and set him to laughing hysterically. Dean gave him an odd look, no doubt wondering what had come over him, but then he broke into laughter as well.

Rather than abiding Dean’s request and cleaning them up, he brought his messy hand back up to Dean’s head and drowned their laughter in another kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

_Then_

We need to talk, Dean."

"Okay, Cas. Talk."

"No." Castiel shifted in the passenger seat of the Impala so he stared directly at Dean. "I don't want to talk while you're driving."

Dean looked at him out of the corner of his eye. After a pregnant pause, he sighed.

"Fine. Let's talk. Jeez you're worse than..."

He didn't finish that sentence. Cas wasn't the first occupant of the passenger seat to force Dean to talk about his feelings.

"Just...gimme a sec, alright?"

Cas was rather certain that 'sec' was shorthand for 'second.' After 20 minutes, he couldn't contain himself anymore.

"Dean it has been more than a 'sec,'", he curled his fingers in the air at the last word as he'd seen others do. "I don't understand why you are still driving."

Dean stopped the car suddenly and turned to Cas.

"Cas, listen to me, first of all, do not ever use air quotes again. Seriously. Second, trust me on this. I just want to find the right spot."

"This seems like a perfectly sufficient 'spot.'" He looked down at his fingers, and quickly uncurled them. "Sorry about that."

Dean cracked a smile at that. Castiel smiled back, relieved. He hadn't intended to begin an argument with his request for a talk, and it would not bode well for the talk if it began with contention.

"Fine, I will trust your judgement, Dean."

"There you go." Dean's smile widened, and he leaned back in his seat and pressed his foot to the gas pedal.

Not long after, Cas congratulated himself on his decision to follow Dean, as Dean had pulled up by the perfect spotnnear a lake. No one was around. It was beautiful.

Dean and Cas got out of the car, and Dean leaned against the side of the Impala, arms folded, while Cas stood in front of him.

"Okay, Cas, here we are. Spit it out."

"I..."

He faltered.

What had he wanted to say? It was something important, surely, but now out in the sun, by water, surrounded by God's creation, and looking into Dean's green eyes, he couldn't think of a single thing.

Dean laughed softly. "Alright, good talk." He made a motion as if to get back in the car.

"No! Wait!"

Dean turned around. "Don't worry, Cas, I'm still here. Just...if you got something to say, say it already. Standing there staring at me's kinda got me freaked out."

Cas blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I'm in love with you."

Dean eyes widened. He shifted them away from Castiel, and then got up and paced halfway around the car. "Damn, Cas. You don't...you're not much for small talk, are you?" Then, in a quieter voice, "Shit, and I thought the silent staring was freaking me out."

"It's okay if you don't love me."

"What?" Dean looked up suddenly and walked back over to Castiel. "No, that's not...it's just..." Dean looked helplessly at him, and he considered reading Dean's thoughts, but decided against it. It just seemed wrong.

Finally, Dean's mouth opened, and words poured out like a dam bursting. "You can't just say that. You can't just go up to someone and say...that." He let out a long breath. "Okay. It's just...I don't...that word...it's not something I've said very much...or heard all that much either. It's...it's a lot. Especially coming from you. I mean...I didn't know angels could even...do that."

Castiel shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "I didn't know angels could either." He danced around the word, as Dean did, in an attempt to put him at ease. "I didn't know I could, until I did."

"Well that's," Dean gulped, "I mean...uh...thank you?"

"You're welcome."

They stood there for a moment, until Dean broke he silence with a non sequitur. Or so it seemed.

"I'm not gay."

Cas was not sure how to respond to this. "Okay."

"I'm not."

"I am completely indifferent to sexual orientation."

"But you're a guy. And I'm a guy. Or you're...in a guy. And I've been in..." a flush crept into Dean's skin, and it was wondrous. "I mean, aren't you gonna call me out here? We've done some stuff that's...pretty..."

"Gay?"

"Well, yeah."

Cas wasn't sure what to make of this. He honestly didn't understand what the fuss was about. Sure, people cited religious scripture that rejected homosexuality, but people had been doing things like that for thousands of years, ignoring the bulk of the holy readings and taking some little snippet to use as a weapon against others. And Dean certainly wasn't religious.

But Dean was human. "It's an awful habit."

"What is?"

"Categorizing. I understand why humans do it. You must survive, and it is much easier to do so if you know a certain category of plant is poisonous and another is not."

"I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about."

"Humans put everything into categories, and insofar as that is useful, it's a helpful cognitive tool. But it spills over into other things. You feel the need to categorize yourselves, and categorize each other, and draw lines and claim superiority based on these categories."

"I get it. So this is the part where you tell me don't worry about labels."

"Labels? Yes, labels for categories. They can be useful as I said. And if it is useful to you to categorize yourself, if that helps in your self-understanding and relationship to the world, then yes, do so. Just, know that it is a product of your mind. And if it is not useful, disregard it."

"Just disregard it? My whole fucking life I'm straight and I'm supposed to just disregard it because it's just a category and it's in my head?"

"Yes. Precisely."

Castiel was grateful that Dean seemed to grasp what he was saying, but still Dean looked dumbfounded. He stood there, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He seemed as if he was still trying to figure something out, but if his words were to be believed he had already figured it out.

When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, mournful. "I don't know if I can do that, Cas."

He walked up to Dean and leaned against him, pushing Dean against the car. He knew he was violating Dean's need for 'personal space' but it didn't seem all that important now. After all, they had been in each other's space to a far greater extent than this. He heard Dean take in a breath as he leaned in.

It wasn't meant to be sexually aggressive, but as soon as their bodies met, it was as if a force ran through both of them. He could feel it, the electrochemical reactions taking over them both.

He tried to continue the conversation, even as he became entranced by Dean's lips and the feeling of his muscles through fabric. Still, his hands came out, somewhat involuntarily, and set themselves on Dean's hips. Dean's breathing had changed, and he felt their breath mingling and settling on each other's skin.

He leaned in and whispered into Dean's ear, "Dean. I love you. And I want you. And I don't care what you classify yourself as. Whatever it is, whatever you are, that's what I will want. I don't want to pretend that I don't love you, and I don't want to pretend that the things that we have done haven't occurred. I can't anymore. I need you. Don't make me pretend. Please."

Dean's lips were on his the moment he uttered his final plea. Dean's hands were on his body, right there in the light of day, and it felt like a celebration.

They pulled away from each other and Dean sucked in a breath. "Okay."

"Okay?"

He looked at him with those beautiful green eyes, with that broken and gorgeous soul. "I'm tired of fighting, Cas. I've been fighting my whole life. Every fucking day. And it never ends, it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. I'm fighting Lucifer, I'm fighting..." the lack of words could only mean one thing, and Cas heard the unspoken name..

(my brother...Sammy)

"I'm tired of fighting this, too. I can't do it anymore. I don't want to. I..." he ran his hands along Cas's sides and looked at him hungrily, "I want you. I'm not gonna fight it anymore."


End file.
